The Ransom of Richard MacLeod
by SouthernChickie
Summary: Shortly after moving in, Richie is mistaken as Duncan and Tessa's son by a couple needing to pay off a large debt. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Like Family

"This isn't going to make us any real money," Collin growled, throwing a pile of crumpled cash on the bed.

"Then why don't you get a job?" Mary asked.

"Get a job? How do you propose I do that, you little whore?" he asked grabbing her arm. "I'm a wanted man, remember? Benny and his goons are ready to kill me the next time they see me."

"You're the one who had to bet on Double Eagle for the win" she reminded him pulling out of his grasp. "And I'm not a whore."

"You forget how we met."

"Look, you want to get out of here and so do I. So let's just get some money and split."

"Maybe if you were a little better at what you do," he snapped tossing a handful of money in her face. "Eighty dollars was all you got last night?"

"I also picked up a shift at the diner."

"Ah, so you're holding out on me?" He grabbed her again. "I owe that man near 50,000 dollars now."

"Don't you touch me," she warned. "I'm the only one making any money around here."

"Go make some more." He handed her a dirty fur coat.

"I'm tired, Collin."

"All you're gonna do is lay on your back. I need that cash and I need it now!"

* * *

"Okay, these are the files for the bills we charge people and these are the files for the bills when we pay people," Duncan explained to the newest member of the antique store staff.

Richie nodded. "Money coming in... money going out. Got it."

"So why don't you start with this." He patted a stack of invoices. "These are the receipts from what we've sold. They're alphabetical by the customer's last name."

"Can do."

Richie set to work mumbling his ABCs while Duncan did data entry in the computer.

"How's it going in here?" Tessa asked coming into the office from the hidden door to her workshop. "Sorry," she apologized when she noticed Richie's shocked expression.

"You startled me," he mumbled, turning back around.

"I thought I would get lunch started. How does soup and sandwiches sound?"

"Sounds great," Duncan smiled at her. "What do you think, Rich?"

"Sure."

"Good. I'll call you when it's ready." She turned with a smile and left. When Richie had moved in a week ago, she had wondered if an American teenager would be hard to accommodate, but this particular one was so easy going and accommodating it was like he had always been there.

She looked through the cupboards and refrigerator and decided on ham sandwiches on day old Italian loaf with baked potato soup. While the soup was simmering, she grated some cheddar cheese and cut some green onions to garnish the soup with. Then she sliced the left over ham from two nights before for the sandwiches. Nearly an hour later, lunch was ready. She called the others up. Richie came up immediately, but Duncan was dealing with a customer and couldn't come up until they were gone.

"Shall we wait?" Tessa asked.

"Sure," Richie shrugged, searching for a coke.

"We may be out," she admitted. "I'll put it on the grocery list."

"Okay." He started looking for something else to drink and settled on milk. "Um... maybe we could add milk too?" he added a bit sheepishly as the last of the milk poured into his glass.

Tessa smiled at him. "Of course. We'll get a full gallon this time." They weren't used to having an avid milk drinker in the house. In a few days time, Richie had polished off a half gallon by himself.

A few minutes later, Duncan came up after getting rid of the picky customer and closing the store for half an hour.

"You didn't have to wait," he smiled, sitting down at the head of the table. As soon as he was seated Richie picked up his sandwich and started eating. "Hungry?" Duncan asked laughing.

Richie stopped, put the sandwich down and grinned nervously. "Sorry." Duncan just smiled and picked up his own sandwich.

"Richie, we need to talk to you about something," Tessa started when the silence had gotten too thick.

Groaning, Richie put down the bowl of green onions he was dumping on his soup and leaned back in his chair. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," she told him.

"Oh," he perked up. "What's up, then?"

"Well, Friday night there is a silent auction for charity that Duncan and I have been invited to..."

"And?" Richie asked. "What does that have to do with me? You guys were the ones invited."

"You have two choices," Duncan started. "Well, three really... four." He shook his head to stop his rambling mind. "You can come with us if you'd like. We'd have to go out and get you a suit tomorrow, but that wouldn't be a problem."

"You'll need one soon enough, anyway," Tessa agreed.

"Okay... so you want me to go."

"If you want to. Or you can stay here and have some quality time with yourself," Tessa told him.

"Or go out with your friends... or have them over, I suppose," Duncan added. "It's up to you."

"So you want me to stay?"

Tessa smiled at the boy's simple confusion. "We want you to decide if you want to go or stay. You just need to decide by five o'clock Friday night."

"Why five?"

"So you'll have time to get ready if you want to go."

"Oh...okay." He went back to his soup. "I don't think I can go," he decided after nearly ten minutes.

"Already have plans?" Duncan asked.

"Maybe."

"Tell you what. We'll leave Tessa with the store tomorrow. I need to go to the hardware store and you can go with me. After that, we'll go get you a suit just in case you decide you want to go."

"But what if I don't go? Then I'll have wasted all my money."

Duncan and Tessa exchanged a quick glance. "Well, Tessa and I were thinking that since you need the suit for work related obligations that we would pay for the suit."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"It only seems fair."

"If you're sure."

"We are. We talked about it and we decided."

"Um... okay, I guess."

Tessa smiled. "Then it's settled. I'll call Mr. Marshall and ask him to set aside a few things for you. That way tomorrow he'll be ready for you."

"Who's Mr. Marshall?" Richie asked tearing apart his bread.

"He owns a tailor shop," Duncan told him. "We'll go there for your suit."

"I thought we were just gonna go to the mall?"

"Mr. Marshall has better quality suits. And I see teenagers in there all the time, so he'll have some styles that are perfect for you."

* * *

Collin walked up and down the aisles of the hardware store. It was a safe place to hide for a while. He was sure he had spotted some of Benny's goons in a café a block away. He'd give it an hour or so before heading back out. By then they will have gone somewhere else.

His fingers glanced over a few of the more pricey items on the shelf in front of him. Too bad there wasn't much want on the black market for fancy chandeliers and light fixtures. There were no real hot items in demand that he could easily get his hands on. Benny's last warning had been clear. The money by next Friday or he would never have to worry about owing anyone money ever again. That gave him a little less than two weeks to get it.

"Man... I can't let you foot that bill. Let me at least pay you back for half of it," a kid said walking down the aisle next to his father.

"Richie," the man said as they skirted Collin. "Don't worry about it. We got a good deal."

"Four hundred bucks on one suit is a good deal?"

"Keep your voice down," the father hissed, grabbing the boy's arm. "Yes, it was. That suit was worth six hundred easily."

Collin couldn't help but listen to the conversation. Four hundred dollars? On a suit for a kid? He wished he had that kind of money to throw around.

"Stop worrying about the clothes and help me find the right lightbulb for the light out side the store."

So dear old Dad owned a store.

"That thing's so old I'm surprised it doesn't use candles," the kid cracked.

"It's used to. It took some doing but I converted it."

"The thing's an antique, why not just get a new one?"

"Think about what you just said."

The boy paused and Collin pretended to be looking at the yard lights a few feet away.

"Kinda an ambiance thing?"

"Very good. It's an antique store, so there is an antique light outside."

Dad owned an antique store? Collin was starting to get an idea. As the pair found the lightbulb and headed for another aisle, Collin walked the other way and caught up with them on the other side of the shelves. He could hear and sort of see the two as they continued their shopping.

"Have you given anymore thought to the benefit?" the father asked as they picked up a box of screws.

"I dunno. I guess since I got the suit now, I might as well," the kid answered.

"Don't worry about the suit. You're going to end up wearing it more than you'd like to know. You'll get plenty of use out of it."

"Well...Gordon and Kyle were going to try to set up a game of football in the park Friday afternoon."

"Then the problem is solved. Go play with your friends. As long as you don't mind being alone for a while. These events run pretty late sometimes."

Collin smiled... the solution was unfolding right in front of him.

"How late?"

"One or two in the morning."

All his questions were being answered as he stood there listening.

"That all? I can handle that."

"Okay. We'll tell Tessa tonight."

Just when Collin thought things could not be any more perfectly set up, he noticed what was on the shelves right in front of him. Grinning, he grabbed a roll of the duct tape just in time for the father/son pair to walk off again. He waited for a second then followed them to check out.

* * *

Richie shifted in his seat and looked over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?' Duncan asked.

"That car's been following us," Richie said.

Duncan glanced in the rearview mirror at the blue car behind them. "For how long?"

"A few blocks."

"You're paranoid." Duncan turned around the corner and parked outside the store. The car was no where to be seen. "See? Just your imagination."

Richie smiled and relaxed visibly. "I guess some things die hard."

Duncan smiled, too, and put his hand on the back of Richie's neck. "I guess so."


	2. Missing

"Where is he?" Tessa groaned as she paced across the kitchen floor. "He said he'd be home by now."

"He'll be here when he gets here," Duncan said as he tied his tie. "He's out with his friends in the park; its already dark out, he shouldn't be too long. Why are you so worried anyway? He's not coming with us."

"But his dinner is in the oven and I don't want to leave it on if no one is home."

Duncan couldn't help but smile. In the short time Richie had lived with them, Tessa had taken the boy under her wing and let her maternal instincts take over. "You made him dinner? I was just going to give him money to order a pizza."

"This will be much healthier for him," Tessa said as she got out a plate and silverware. "You can't let him ruin his health by letting him eat junk food all the time."

"I think Richie eats plenty healthy. He eats his vegetables and loves most fruit. We can let him have junk every now and then."

"Well, he's been playing hard all day. He needs some nutrition."

"Why don't you go finish getting ready," Duncan suggested. "And I'll make sure he gets his balanced meal."

Richie came in a few minutes later smeared with mud and sweat. Duncan looked up from the salad he was tearing.

"How did the game go?"

Richie smiled widely. "We kicked their butts! 18 to 6."

"Then I'd hate to see the kids on the other team."

Richie looked at his clothes. "I guess I am a little dirty."

"A little? You're filthy. When you left, you had blonde hair." Duncan told him, swatting his brown hand away from the carrots. "Go take a quick shower and your dinner will be waiting for you."

"What is it?"

"Mexican casserole."

Richie wrinkled his nose. "Okay..."

Duncan looked down the hall and made sure Tessa was still getting ready. He leaned into Richie and whispered: "Just pretend to eat it. I'll put some money on your dresser for pizza."

Richie grinned. "Yeah?"

"Just make sure you make it look like you ate what Tessa made for you. And destroy the evidence."

Richie grinned at him. "I will."

"Good. Now go get cleaned up." Duncan playfully swatted at Richie's bottom as the teen went to take a shower.

Duncan put together a plate of casserole and a bowl of salad and put it on the table with a tall glass of water.

"Is Richie back?" Tessa asked fastening an earring as she entered the kitchen.

"Look at you..." Duncan smiled looking her up and down. "You look wonderful."

"Thank you. You look very nice yourself." She kissed him on the cheek. "We will be the envy of everyone there."

Richie trotted down the hall damp, but clean just in time to say good night to Duncan and Tessa.

"Whoa... look at you!" he exclaimed looking at Tessa. "You look great!"

"Why, thank you, Richie. Are you sure you're going to be alright alone?"

Richie smiled. "I'm eighteen, Tess. I'll be fine."

"Richie, food is on the table," Duncan told him. "And I hope to find you in bed when we get back."

Richie rolled his eyes. "Okay."

"See you in the morning, Rich."

"Night, guys."

Duncan took Tessa's arm and Richie walked them to the back door.

"Oh, and Richie?" Tessa turned around.

"Yeah, Tess?"

"Enjoy your pizza. But eat a salad first."

Richie looked at Duncan who shrugged, "I don't know how she does it either."

Richie went back into the kitchen and went straight for the phone. He had the phone number to the pizza place memorized.

"Hi. I need a delivery..."

Forty minutes later, Richie was sitting on the couch with a slice of pizza in one hand and a root beer in the other, his eyes glued to the screen as the brain sucking zombies from Mars took over the small town in Iowa.

* * *

"We can't go through with this!" Mary exclaimed watching Collin load a pistol. "You cannot kidnap someone."

"We can and we will. This is the fastest way to get the money before Benny decides that he has to squeeze it out of me."

"He's just a kid!"

"And his parents are rich."

"Collin, you can't do this!"

"We won't hurt him. Just keep him in your parent's house for a few days then when his parents give us the money we give him back. No harm done."

"I don't know, Collin. That house is practically condemned."

"Its still standing, isn't it? Mary, think about it. We charge the parents twice what we need to pay Benny, then we have plenty of money to leave Washington and start over. We can buy a house. Get married. Have kids..."

"And have the cops after us."

"No. That's the beauty. No cops involved. We grab the kid. Tell his parents the when, where and how. They give us the money; we give them the kid." Mary thought about it. "We'll be set. No worries. No one looking for us. Just lots of money in the bank."

"And he won't be hurt?"

"Not a hair on his head."

"We have to do it tonight?"

"His parents will be gone until one or two. We go in at midnight."

Mary sighed and looked at the bag on the bed. "You know where we're going?"

"I followed the home from the store. 1523 Westbrook."

* * *

The credits were rolling and Richie was falling asleep on the couch. He hadn't realized how tired he was. He pushed himself off the couch and threw his empty can in the recycling bin and put his left over pizza in the refrigerator. The more he moved around, the more tired he got. He flipped off the lights in the kitchen before going to brush his teeth.

He crawled into bed and turned on his alarm before falling asleep.

"Okay, we give him a few minutes to get nice and relaxed then we go in," Collin said as the last light in the loft went out.

"Which room is his?" Mary asked.

"We'll find him. He's the only one home."

They waited on pins and needles as Richie slowly drifted into a relaxed, comfortable limbo between sleep and awake.

"You keep quiet. Don't say a word, just do what I told you," Collin whispered, opening the car door.

The streets were deserted. The only light was the soft glow of the moon from overhead.

* * *

Tessa looked at the clock on the wall in the banquet hall. "Oh, my. One thirty already. Duncan, we really should be going."

"Oh, Tessa, the night is young," Monique, an artist friend, teased. "Since when do you have a curfew?"

"Since we have a teenager at home to set an example for."

"You have a point," Duncan agreed. "We should get home."

It took them another half hour to say their good byes and get in the car.

"I hope he's in bed," Duncan said as he started the engine. "I need his help in the store tomorrow and I don't want him to be tired and cranky all day."

"I know what you have planned for him," Tessa laughed. "He's going to be cranky no matter how much sleep he gets."

Duncan smiled. "True."

When they pulled up to the store, the first thing Duncan noticed was the back door hanging open.

"Duncan..." Tessa had noticed, too.

"Tess, I want you take a little drive. Come back in five minutes."

"Okay." She took his place in the driver's seat and pulled out of the alley.

Duncan drew his sword before cautiously entered the workshop. Nothing seemed out of place, except the glass door to the kitchen was open, too.

"Richie?" he called, making his way back to the teen's room. He took a mental inventory as he walked across the apartment. Expensive items from the store were left in their places, no drawers were open, nothing missing. "Rich?"

Was it possible Richie was asleep and had missed whatever had happened? He opened the door to Richie's room...his bed was empty.

Tessa drove to the pier and back. Duncan was waiting for her in the doorway.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"It's Richie, he's gone."

"He ran away?"

"No, he's been kidnapped." He handed her the note he had found on the kitchen counter. "That's Richie's handwriting."

"Mom and Dad

I'm okay. I'm not hurt. They want you to bring $150,000 dollars to the founder's statue in Highcliff Park at 2:30 Tuesday morning. No cops or they won't let me come home. I love you. Your son, Richie."

* * *

Richie tried as best he could to keep track of where the car was going. Right, about three blocks, right, another block, right again, and on forever. The radio was blaring oldies music, but he could still hear people talking in the front seat. He just couldn't make out what they were saying. Another right. Were they going in a circle?

Oh, God. Where were they taking him? How much longer was he going to be back here? He figured he was on the floorboards of the back seat of a four door car.

They drove around for what felt like hours. They were driving in circles. Richie had been was completely disoriented when the car stopped and the engine turned off. He heard he door by his feet open and someone grab his ankles.

They pulled him roughly out of the car. He balanced awkwardly on his taped together feet. Someone threw him over their shoulder and carried him up a small flight of stairs, down a hallway and into a room where they dropped him on a mattress. Then he heard a door close and lock.

Now that he wasn't crammed into a back seat Richie tried to get loose. There was duct tape around his ankles and his wrists behind his back. He had a cloth over his eyes and tape around his head to hold it in place and tape over his mouth. He struggled, twisted, pulled, and wiggled but nothing gave.

* * *

Tessa held onto Duncan as they sat on the couch together.

"Who would do this to us?" she whispered.

"I don't know."

"Why? Why us?"

"Because we have what they need. And now they have what we want."

"What are we going to do?"

"Just what they ask. We get the money; we met them and we get Richie back. That's all we can do."

"What if they hurt him?"

"They won't."

"You don't know that!" Tessa snapped. "We don't know who they are; we don't know where he is; we don't know if he's okay; we don't even know if he's alive!"

"We don't know that's he isn't, either," Duncan said, trying to calm her down. "Panicking and 'freaking out' isn't going to help anything. We have to keep calm, do what they told us to and trust that at two thirty one Tuesday morning we will have Richie back safe and sound."

"I'm just so worried about him. He must be scared."

Duncan put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. "I am, too."


	3. The Wait

AN: Many thanks to Neoinean, who showed me how to put in section breaks. Hope this is easier to read now!

It had been silent for hours. Richie had pulled, tugged, twisted and struggled until he was afraid he had broken one of his wrists. He lay still and waited to find out what was going to happen. At some point, he fell asleep because he found himself being gently shaken awake.

"Shhh," someone warned him, taking the tape off his mouth.

"Where am I?" Richie whispered. There was no answer. "What's going on?" Still no answer. He opened his mouth to ask another question, when whoever was with him shoved a spoonful of cereal in it. Instinctively, Richie spit the food back out. "What is that?" Someone took his jaw in their hand and put another spoonful of cereal in it. When Richie closed his mouth, they clamped their hand over it and didn't move it until he had chewed and swallowed. A few seconds later, there was another spoonful of Corn Flakes and then another until, presumably, he had finished the bowl.

Then they put their hand behind his head and supported him while they tipped a glass of water to his lips. He drank it all. The stranger lay him back down then tied a cloth gag around his head. Again, Richie heard the door close, then lock.

* * *

"Where were you?" Collin demanded when Mary entered the small apartment.

"Work."

"No you weren't. I went by to see you. They told me you left early."

Mary sighed and sat down on the couch. "I took the kid some food."

"You did what?"

"I took him some food."

"Why the hell would you do something like that?" Collin grabbed her arms and pulled her to her feet. "What if someone had seen you?"

"No one saw me," she jerked her arms out of his grip. "And even if they did, I have every right to be there."

"You risked a lot going to that kid."

"I let you kidnap him, I'm not going to let you starve him, too."

"What if someone had seen you?"

"They didn't."

"Don't you do it again."

"The hell I won't. He needs to eat."

Collin grabbed Mary again. "You will stay away from him. All he needs to do is keep quiet and make us a shit load of money."

"You told his parents you wouldn't hurt him." She twisted and pulled, but couldn't get loose this time.

"Let me take care of the kid."

"Then take care of him!" she yelled.

Collin back handed her. "Don't you ever talk to me like that again," he told her. Mary put her hand to her stinging cheek. "Oh, Mary." He took her into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, baby." He stroked her hair. "I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did that. I'm just so worried that we'll get caught. And I just want to make sure we don't take any unnecessary risks." He held her out at arm's length. "You know I love you, don't you?"

Silently, she nodded.

* * *

Duncan and Tessa had fallen asleep on the couch. Duncan woke up around nine the next morning, with Tessa still asleep on his chest.

"Tess..." he gently shook her awake. "Tess, wake up."

Slowly, Tessa opened her eyes. "Duncan...tell me it was all a dream."

He shook his head. "Sorry, sweetheart. Richie's gone."

"What day is it?"

"Saturday."

"When can we get him?"

Duncan looked at the abandoned not on the coffee table. "Tuesday morning."

"We have to call the police!"

"We can't."

"They didn't say we couldn't!" she argued, sitting up. "We have to do something! We can't just sit around here for three days wondering what's happening to him!"

"We can't call the police."

"Then what do you propose we do?"

"Just sit tight." He tired to put his hand on her shoulder. She slapped his hand away.

"How can you say that? How can you be so calm?" she screamed. "There is a scared child out there at the mercy of who knows who! And you're telling me you aren't even going to bother looking for him?" she was pacing the room.

"What good will that do, Tess?" Duncan asked.

"What? How can you say that?" She went into the kitchen and fished around in a drawer for her cigarettes.

"Because we have no idea where he is or who has him. We have no leads to follow. All we can do is get the money and be ready to get him home."

"How can you say that?"

"Look, Tess, this is all we have to go on!" He snatched up the ransom note. "This is it!" He shoved it under her nose. "Richie's handwriting, calling us mom and dad and saying that if we don't pay up, he's not coming back! Where do you want me to go? Tell me where to look and I'll go!" he yelled. "And put that thing out!" He grabbed the cigarette out of her hand. "They can kill you!"

"I don't care!" She lit up another one. "I'm worried, Duncan, I'm scared! Do you have any idea what they could be doing to him, right now? And how is he to stop them?" She started to cry. "What if they hurt him? He's just a child!"

"We just have to trust that he'll be okay."

"What if they kill him?" she asked. "What if all we find is his body?"

"Don't think like that..." He put his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "Richie's going to be okay."

"I'm so scared," she whispered, dropping her cigarette in the ash tray on the counter, then taking her place back in Duncan's arms.

"Me, too," he admitted. "Me, too."

* * *

Richie had lost all track of time. He felt as if he' been alone for days. He didn't know if it was light out; he didn't know where he was; he didn't know who had him, he didn't know if they had left him; he didn't know if they were coming back. Without warning, he started to cry. He wasn't sure why. He wasn't scared.

Who was he kidding?

He was terrified. He was scared out of his freaking mind! He had already wet himself a few times. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything. He couldn't move. He could barely even breathe. He was freezing. He was wet. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know what was going to happen. He didn't know how long he had until they came back for him. He didn't know if they were even in the same building. He didn't know how long until he got to go home. He didn't even know if he was going home.

Duncan and Tessa had a lot of money, but did they have $150,000 dollars to blow on him? It wasn't as if they had any real attachment to him. He had been living with them for a month...if even that. Sure, they seemed to like him, but enough to spend $150,000 dollars for him? If they did, he supposed he'd be in debt to them for the rest of his life.

Suddenly, he really really really wanted to go home. He had always wanted to go home, but the more he thought of the loft, the more he cried, the more he wished he was home, in his nice warm bed, in those damned pajamas Tessa was always trying to get him to wear.

He coughed and gagged as he tried to breathe. He was making so much noise he didn't hear the door open and someone walk in.

He gasped as someone roughly grabbed his shoulders and sat him up.

"Shut up," a voice hissed. The same voice that had dictated the ransom note to him.

Richie tired to force himself to calm down. The voice's hand grabbed his jaw and squeezed it, shaking his head. Richie's breath stuck in his throat as he felt a gun press up against his temple. They pulled the gag out of his mouth and shoved a piece of pizza in.

"Eat it."

Richie bit off what was in his mouth and barely had enough time to swallow before he was forced to bite off more. He had barely taken a fifth bite when the gag was put back and he was dropped back onto the bed.

"Keep quiet this time."

* * *

Duncan sat at the computer in the office working on inventory. It was going smoothly, everything was matching up. Richie had been working hard getting everything organized for him. He had found all the pieces and matched them up with their inventory cards. So now all Duncan had to do was go down a check list and check it against the computer.

"Agh!" He heard Tessa yell from her workshop. He sprang to his feet and was through the door in a split second.

"You okay?"

"I just burned myself." She put her finger in her mouth.

"Don't do that." He took her hand in his and looked at the burn. "Looks painful."

"I'm alright."

"You should put some aloe on that."

"I'll be fine!" she snapped, taking her hand back.

"Tessa..."

She sniffed and turned away.

"Are you okay?"

"What if he's hurt?" she asked turning around. "What if he's hurt? Who's taking care of him?"

"Oh, Tess..." He put his arms out and she cuddled into him. "I'm sure he's fine. And in a few days we'll find out. I have the money all ready for them. All we have to do is make sure we have whatever he may need ready for him when we bring him home."

* * *

Days passed and no one had come yet. The room was silent. Richie was starving. He really had to go to the bathroom. He stubbornly refused to soil himself any further and, as patiently as he could, he waited for one of his captors to come with food, so he could ask to use the restroom. He held it for as long as he could, but in the end, his body won the fight.

The only question was when were they going to come for him?

* * *

Collin and Mary got into their car out side their apartment four blocks away from the run down house where they had left Richie.

"Do we have everything?" Collin asked.

Mary looked in the back pack sitting in her lap. "I think so."

"Tape?"

"Yes."

"Masks and gloves?"

"Yes."

"Walkie talkies?"

"Yes."

"Camera?"

"Yes."

"Knife?"

"Yes."

"The gun?"

Mary took a shaky breath. "Yes."

"Good. Let's get our money." He smiled at her and put his hand on her knee. "This is it, we're going to be rich. This kid is setting us up for life."

"Let's stop and get him something to eat," Mary said.

Collin sighed and put the car in gear. "What is with you and this kid? You like him or something?"

"His parents are trusting us to take care of him. I think giving him some food is the right thing to do."

"We've already fed him."

"Just stop so we can get him a burger. Some fries. Something."

They drove through Burger King and got Richie a Whopper. They drove around for half an hour until heading for the house Mary's parents had left her.

"Just remember what I said," Collin said to Mary. "Don't say a word to him or his parents. Just give them the picture and get the money."

"How am I supposed to get the money?"

"The boy will tell them what to do. That's what the Walkie Talkies are for."

They checked to make sure no one saw them and then stopped at the house, headlights off, and pulled into the garage.

"Keep your mouth shut," Collin hissed taking the bag from her.

They got into the house and each put on a pair of gloves.

"Give him the burger, sit him up, tape his mouth and leave him." Collin gave her the burger and roll of duct tape.

Mary nodded and went down the hall to Richie's small prison.

Richie shifted to face her when he heard the door open. He started talking to her through the gag.

"Shh," she told him, taking it off.

"Please," he whispered. "I have to go to the bathroom."

"Shh," she told him again, unwrapping the burger.

"Please," he begged her. "I really have to go. I've been holding it forever."

Mary put her finger to his lips then put the burger in his mouth. Richie chewed and swallowed. "Please," he asked again.

She didn't say a word, but continued to feed him the burger until he had finished it. When he was done, she wiped away crumbs and mayonnaise from his mouth then tore off a piece of tape and covered his mouth with it.

He again tried to speak to her through the gag. At first quietly, then louder, then yelling when he heard the door close.

She went down the hall and into the living room. "How much longer?"

"Two hours."


	4. The Drop

Duncan looked at his watch. It was half past midnight. He stood and picked up the black duffle bag with the money in it.

"Let's go get Richie."

He took Tessa's arm and they went out to the car.

* * *

At one o'clock, Collin looked at Mary. "Just do it exactly how I told you to."

He got up and went back into the room. He grabbed Richie around the waist and drug him, screaming and struggling into the empty living room.

"Shh..." Mary went over to the panicking teen. "Shh." She ran her fingers though his dirty hair. "It's over now," she whispered comfortingly.

Collin grabbed her wrist and jerked his head toward the garage. She gave Richie a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before going out to start the car. Collin put a now complacent Richie over his shoulder and carried him out to the car. He leaned Richie up against the car, pulled the release to the trunk then put him inside. He took out the Polaroid camera, took a picture of Richie, then slammed the trunk closed.

"Did you have to put him back there?" Mary asked.

"Just get in the car."

They drove to the park, turning off the headlights as they approached. Collin parked the car in the shadows under a near by bridge. They got out of the car, both wearing masks and gloves, each with a Walkie Talkie; Collin with the knife, Mary the gun.

Mary walked to the meeting place while Collin was left to take care of Richie.

Duncan and Tessa arrived at the Founder's Statue just after Mary. At the base of the statue was the picture of Richie and the Walkie Talkie. Mary stood her ground, gun at her side. Tessa stepped forward to get the radio. Duncan took her arm and went to get it himself.

He pushed the button. "Richie?"

"Mac!" Richie's voice crackled back.

Tessa grabbed the radio. "Richie, are you alright?"

"God, get me outta here!" he begged, his voice breaking.

"Rich?" Duncan asked. "Where are you?" There was no answer. "Rich? Richie!"

"Do you have the money?" he asked in a frightened whisper.

"Of course we do. All of it."

There was a pause. "Take three steps forward," Richie told him. "Put the money down, and walk away."

"When do we get you, Richie?" Duncan demanded.

"Just put the money down and walk away," Richie's voice repeated. "I'll tell you where I am when they have the money."

"Okay. I'm walking forward," Duncan said. "I'm putting the money down."

"Walk away."

Duncan took a deep breath. "I'm backing away."

Mary held the gun up, stepped forward and picked up the bag.

"What's going on here!?" a voice demanded.

Duncan, Tessa, and Mary all looked toward the sound and saw a young policeman walk out of the shadows.

"They have our son!" Tessa yelled.

The policeman started toward the couple. Mary took it as her cue to exit; she dropped the money and ran.

"Hey! Freeze!" the officer yelled taking aim.

"No!" Duncan pushed his arms down. "If you kill her, they'll kill Richie!"

Mary rounded the corner under the bridge.

"Did you get it?" Collin asked.

"Cops!" she screamed. Collin pushed Richie back into the trunk, slammed it closed and then sped off.

* * *

Duncan sighed. "His name is Richard Ryan. He's eighteen years old. He was kidnapped Friday night sometime between eight pm and two am," he said for the fifth time. "We don't know who has him. All we know was they wanted us to meet them this morning for the ransom drop. And we would have gotten him back had one of your men not gotten in the way." This was the forth time he had to answer the same questions. First the police at the scene, then the police at the station, then the police at his home, and now some FBI agent in their home as his men bugged their phones and looked for clues.

Tessa sat quietly at Duncan's side, holding his hand.

"Well, we have all the evidence in the lab. We'll give you a call when we get any information."

"That's it?" Tessa demanded. "That's all you're going to tell us?"

"Ma'am, once we have more information we'll contact you. We're leaving some of our best men here to monitor everything that happens. If the kidnappers contact you, we'll find them. I promise you we are going to do everything we can to bring your boy back home where he belongs."

* * *

"I'm Randi McFarland reporting live from the Founder's Statue in Highcliff Park where in the early hours of the morning the police foiled a parent's attempt to get their son back. Apparently, a rookie street officer happened upon the ransom drop, distracting the boy's family long enough for the kidnappers to get away with the abducted teen. Police are not releasing the names of the parties involved. When asked this morning, Lieutenant James Travett of the FBI had this to say:"

"The teenage son of a wealthy local couple was abducted sometime in the early morning hours of Saturday morning. We have a few clues to go on, but are confident at this time that the boy was unharmed at the time of the drop and is still in relative safety."

"Stay tuned to channel seven as we follow this story. I'm Randi McFarland reporting, Channel Seven News."

Duncan turned off the TV. "Why are you watching that?" he asked Tessa.

"I just keep thinking that maybe they know something."

"They won't know anything we don't."

"Duncan, he was so close. How could we let them get away with him again?"

"We'll get him back, Tess," he promised her. "Everything will be okay."

* * *

Richie had no idea what was going on. One minute he was talking to Duncan and the next he was back in the trunk being driven away and now the car was parked, and had been for quite some time.

"Help!!!" he screamed. "Help! Someone help me!" he kicked at the sides of the car. "Someone help me please!!"

"Shut up in there!" someone yelled slamming the trunk lid.

Richie jumped. "Lemme outta here!" he screamed. "Let me go!"

Outside, Collin slammed his fist on the trunk again. "I said be quiet!"

"Collin, please. He's just scared," Mary pleaded with him. She had been sitting quietly on a rock while he paced and ranted at the scenic look out outside the city.

"What are we going to do with him?" Collin demanded. "The cops are gonna be sniffing everywhere looking for him!"

"Help me!"

"Why don't we just let him go?" she suggested. "Leave him the knife to get himself loose and he can find his way home."

"Let me outta here!"

"No."

"Then what do we do with him?"

Without a word, Collin went into the car, got the gun and opened the trunk.

"No! I won't let you kill him."

"Please! Let me go! I won't tell anyone!" Richie bargained, panicking when he heard what Mary said.

Collin fired a shot into the air and both Mary and Richie went silent.

"Please," Richie whimpered as he heard someone approach the car. "Please don't kill me. I'll be quiet, I promise. Just...please don't hurt me. I'll do anything."

Someone grabbed him roughly but the hair and sat him up.

"No... please!" he begged, instantly crying. "Please... Oh, God, please don't!"

"Shut up," Collin hissed in his ear.

Richie closed his mouth but continued to whimper and sniff as he tried to squirm away.

"What are you doing to him?" Mary whispered.

Collin picked up the discarded duct tape roll by Richie's feet and ripped off a piece. "I'm shutting him up." He tapped Richie's mouth and pushed him back down, closing the trunk. "Get in the car."

"What's going on? What are you doing?"

"Taking him back to your parents' place. We're gonna keep him a few days, then up the ransom."

* * *

It had been two days since they had heard anything from the kidnappers. The police had been over their home with a fine toothed comb and found nothing.

"Mr. MacLeod," Detective Powell asked, knocking on the antique store office door where Duncan was trying to get some privacy. "Can I have a minute?"

"Sure." Duncan sighed and gestured him in.

"Look, I'm going to be frank with you. I think you've been set up and you should just let the kid play kidnapped all he wants."

"What?" Duncan asked.

"You know what he is, MacLeod. Ryan's bad news. I'm willing to bet money that he's in on this."

"Then you're willing to loose. Richie wouldn't do this."

"You've only known him a few weeks, MacLeod. You think he turned around that easily? Face it, he played you."

"No, he didn't."

"You think that a roof and some food is going to turn him into a saint?"

"Maybe he just needed someone to believe in him, because of people like you out there who won't give him a chance!" Duncan yelled. "You remember this, Powell, I will pay as much as anyone asks to make sure he gets back here safe and sound. And if you ever come into my home spouting off that derogatory crap about my family, you better be ready to find out how much I stand behind them. Both of them. Tessa and Richie. And if anything...anything happens to Richie because of your and your close minded, pompous, arrogant, derogatory reluctance to be on this case, I will do anything to get your badge and gun, and ruin your life so badly, you'll be lucky to get a job licking gum off the streets. Is that understood?"


	5. Close Call

"It's been over a week since the teenage son of a Seacouver couple..."

"This poor family was so close to getting their child back only to have him ripped away from them...."

"The whole country has been following the story of the Washington State couple...."

"If you have any information, please call..."

"A ransom of $150,000 was prepared for the boy's safe return..."

"No word yet of the boy's condition..."

"Tessa." Duncan took the remote and put the TV on mute. "You're just driving yourself crazy."

"It's all that is on now. They were talking about us on Good Morning America, this morning. The whole country knows about us." She put her head on his shoulder. "I can't take this. How much longer until they just find his body?"

"Don't think like that. We'll get him back. All we need is for them to tell us what to do next."

They sat holding each other, until the phone rang. Duncan and Tessa jumped to answer, waiting for the cue from the FBI agent with them to tell them they could pick it up. But it wasn't their phone. It was a second line the FBI had set up.

"Mr. MacLeod." The agent handed the phone to Duncan.

"MacLeod," Duncan answered.

"Mr. MacLeod, this is Lieutenant Travett. We just got word from the kidnappers."

"What did they say?" he gestured Tessa to the phone.

"They want half a million dollars in two weeks."

"Half a million?" Tessa repeated.

"That's fine," Duncan said. "We'll get the money and have it ready for them. Did they tell you anything about Richie? Is he okay?"

"We don't know. They didn't say."

"Is there a way we can get in touch with them? We just want to know if he's okay."

"There's nothing we can do along that line. But we'd like for you to come down to the station. We have a few ideas on how to get the boy back a bit sooner."

"We'll be right there."

It took them less than ten minutes to get to the station and be seated in Travett's office.

"How did they get a hold of you?" Duncan asked.

"Here." Travett handed Duncan the letter, in a protective plastic sleeve. Richie's handwriting sloppily covered the page, tilted at an awkward angle.

"half a million on october 28 same time same place no cops"

"There was also a picture."

"Can we see it?"

"You don't want to. He's a little beat up."

"What?" Tessa demanded.

"It looks pretty superficial. Just a bloody nose and some bruises."

"Then why can't we see it?"

"You said you had some ideas to get him back?" Duncan changed the subject.

"We've called a press conference in an hour. We haven't promised them anything, but we think it would be a good idea for you to go on camera. Make a statement."

"What good would that do?"

"We want the kidnappers to see Richie as more than a meal ticket. We need to make him as human as possible. Also, we want a picture of him to put around the city. Just in case anyone saw anything."

"You want to plaster his face all over the city?" Duncan asked. "What good will that do? Why don't you just ask people to report it if they've seen a kid that's been tied up and is being held against his will?"

"It's all about making him human, real. The kidnappers live somewhere in this city. They're going to see the posters."

"We don't have any pictures of him," Tessa said. "He's only lived with us for a month."

"We've led the press to believe that he is your son. We need to come up with something. The last thing we need is these guys to panic when they find out they got the wrong kid."

"So what do we do?" Duncan asked. "We don't have any pictures; we can't change that."

"I could draw him," Tessa suggested. "I'd just need a few minutes to do it."

"Okay." He picked up his phone. "Can I get some sketching materials in here?" He hung up. "It'll be here soon. In the mean time, we need to decide what you're going to tell the press."

* * *

Duncan and Tessa stood side by side behind a podium in front of the sea of reporters.

Duncan looked down at the prepared statement in his hands. "My name," he said into the microphone. "is Duncan MacLeod and this is my wife Tessa. Sometime between the hours of eight pm and two am October eleventh our eighteen year old son, Richie, was kidnapped from our home. We got together the original one hundred and fifty thousand dollar ransom and prepared for the drop. Unfortunately, at the time of the drop, we were interrupted by a rookie police officer and they got away with Richie again. We have just gotten word that the ransom has been raised to half a million dollars and we intend on paying every cent of it to get our son back. All we ask of the people who have our son is that they don't hurt him and return him unharmed as was our original agreement."

He put the paper down and turned with Tessa to go back into the station, reporters shouting questions at their retreating back.

Lieutenant Travett took their place at the podium. "We are making copies of a drawing of Richie, sketched by his mother and fliers to put out over the city. If anyone has any information please contact the police. As of right now, we have no suspects in the case and are still looking for clues."

* * *

Across town, Mary stared at the TV as the news played a repeat of the press conference from that morning. She got a good look at the grieving mother, who stood silently by her husband.

"Richie MacLeod," she repeated.

"What?" Collin asked, looking up from his paper.

"That's the kid's name. Richie MacLeod."

"Mary, do yourself a favor and don't get attached to this kid. He's just a check ready to be cashed."

"He's a boy."

"And thinking like that is what's going to get us caught."

"Collin, the whole country is talking about this. Do you really think we're going to get away with this?"

"We have two weeks to figure it out."

* * *

Duncan put a protective arm around Tessa as they pushed their way though the crowd of reporters that had taken up residence in front of the store.

"Do you have any comments?" one reporter asked.

"Any news about your son?"

"How are you holding up?"

"How much longer until you get your son back?"

"Do you think he's still alive?"

"Are you worried?"

"Any response to the allegations that you were involved?"

Duncan let Tessa in the car, then went around to the driver's side to let himself in.

"I hate those people," Tessa spat, trying to hide her face from the cameras. "How could they think we had any involvement in this?"

"The first place people look is at the parents," Duncan said, maneuvering the car into traffic. "We know we aren't to blame, the cops know and so do Richie and whoever has him."

"Duncan, it's been four days and they haven't contacted anyone."

"I know how long it's been, Tess," Duncan snapped. "I'm just as worried about him as you are."

"I never said you weren't!"

"You sure act like it! Always blabbing on about it!" He pulled into traffic.

"Well, I'm sorry if I can't act as if nothing is wrong!" she yelled.

"I'm not either!" He looked at her.

"The hell you aren't! You sit downstairs working on your paperwork and precious business while he's out there somewhere scared and alone with no one to take care of him!"

"I'm worried, Tessa! I'm scared! And I'm angry! There's nothing I can do for him and I hate that! I'm supposed to take care of him and he's out there somewhere now and I can't help him! I hate that!" he yelled.

"Then why can't you just say that?" she demanded.

"Because I'm trying to be strong for you! Someone has to be calm and rational!"

Someone honked as Duncan started to veer into their lane.

"I can be strong for myself, Duncan MacLeod!" Tessa continued to yell. "I'm not the helpless woman you think I am!"

"I never said you were helpless!"

"You certainly implied it!"

"I did not!"

"Just shut up!"

"You started all this!"

"Duncan!"

"Tessa!"

"Agh! Look out!" Tessa screamed, covering her face with her arms and the car veered off the road.

* * *

Mary jumped when there was a knock on their apartment door. She looked out the peep hole and saw two uniformed officers standing in the hall.

"It's the cops!" she whispered urgently to Collin. "What do I do?"

"Go in the back room," he ordered. He waited until she had disappeared to open the door. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Have you seen this boy?" one of the officers asked, handing him a flyer with the drawing of Richie on it.

"Isn't he the kid on the news?" Collin asked.

"Yes. Have you seen him?"

"No. I haven't. Did someone see him around here?"

"Not that we've found. Do us a favor and keep your eye out. If you see anything suspicious, please call the number at the bottom."

"Of course I will."

"Thank you, sir."

"Of course. Good luck finding the kid." He closed the door.

He sat on the couch and dropped the flyer on the coffee table.

"What did they want?" Mary asked coming out from the bedroom.

"Wanted to know if I'd seen the kid."

"What did you tell them?"

"I told them he was at your parents' house, wadaya think I told them!"

Mary picked up the flyer and read it.

HAVE YOU SEEN OUR SON?

RICHARD "RICHIE" MACLEOD

5'8", BLONDE HAIR, BLUE EYES,145 lbs.

DATE MISSING : OCTOBER 11, 1992

In the middle of the paper was Tessa's drawing of Richie, his hair a little messy and a cocky grin on his face.

"He has blue eyes," Mary said. "I bet he's really cute without all that tape on his face."

"You don't need to worry what he looks like," Collin snapped. "All you gotta worry about is keeping him quiet for another ten days."

"Maybe we should just take him home," she mumbled. "I mean, his parents are really worried."

"You wanna go back to turning tricks for strange men?" Collin asked.

"No, of course I don't."

"Then the kid stays."


	6. The Problem

"Tess, are you okay?" Duncan asked urgently, after a momentary loss of his bearings after the crash.

"I'm fine," she said, putting her hand to her forehead.

"You're bleeding." Duncan looked at the blood on her scalp that was beginning to drip down her face.

"It's nothing. Just a scratch."

"We need to get you looked at." He reached into the glove box and got out the cell phone. He called 911 and told the operator where they were, just a few miles away from the store and was told an ambulance would be there in ten minutes.

"It looks like just a scratch," Duncan said looking at the wound as they waited. "But better safe than sorry."

* * *

"We've been following the story of the eighteen year old who was kidnapped from his home in Washington state for almost two weeks now," Diane Sawyer told the camera. "We've had many people write us asking what they can to help the MacLeod family in their search for their son, Richie. Hopes, prayers and well wishes can help the family just as much as anything else in their time of need, but if you wish to donate to the ransom, you can call 1-800-555-LOST and you can donate directly into an account set up to help the family with the five hundred thousand dollar ransom."

Duncan reached for the remote, but Tessa took it before he could and left the show on.

"For those of you not familiar with the story, Richie MacLeod was kidnapped from his home on October 11th, the only clue a ransom note in his own handwriting. When his parents went to give the kidnappers the original one hundred fifty thousand dollar ransom, the kidnappers were chased away by a police officer. Days later, the police received another note in the boy's handwriting changing the ransom amount and setting a new date. With us today, we have Dr. Amanda Mumford, a recognized expert in cases of this nature. Welcome, Dr. Mumford."

"Thank you," the middle aged woman said, smiling at the camera.

"How do you anticipate this case ending?"

"Unfortunately, many cases like this end in tragedy. Statistically, the longer the child is missing, the less likely the chances are that the child will be found alive."

"Tessa, turn it off."

"No!"

"What do you predict Richie's chances are?" Diane asked.

"After two weeks, I'd say he has a little less that a fifty-fifty chance. And the longer they keep him, the more his chances go down. Add in the extensive press coverage and the police effort and they've made a rather bad investment. As much as I'd love to read that the boy is found safe and unharmed, the circumstances are against him."

"That's a rather pessimistic view of the situation."

"It's a realistic view."

"Tessa, turn it off!" Duncan made a grab for the remote.

"No! I want to know what the rest of the country thinks about our situation."

"Why? You want to hear that Richie's been shot and buried in a shallow grave?"

"I want to know what our real chances are! I'm sick of being patronized and told everything will be okay!"

"Tessa..."

"No! No! I am not a child! I need to know what's really happening! And if no one here will tell me, I'll just get it from strangers! At least they're being honest!"

"Why do you always have to start a fight?" Duncan demanded, very conscious of the agents who were all hurrying to find a way to busy themselves and give the couple any privacy they could.

"Because I'm sick of not knowing what's happening! I just want to know what's happening to that boy!" She jumped to her feet.

"Do you think they know? Because they don't! We don't know, the police don't know and the reporters sure as hell don't know! Face it, Tessa, nobody knows! There's nothing we can do but wait!" Duncan took a step forward and they stood toe to toe.

"I'm sick of waiting! I want action! I want Richie back!"

"Tessa, there's nothing we can do! Face it!"

"Duncan.."

"Stop living in a dream world! Richie's gone and we can't do anything about it! We're just as helpless as he is!"

"No, we aren't! He's the one lost and alone! We're here under our own free will! No one is holding us captive here at gun point!"

"But none of us can change the situation!"

They stood, toe to toe, glaring into each other's eyes. Suddenly Tessa's hand shot up and she slapped Duncan across the face before storming out of the room.

* * *

"What are we gonna do?" Collin mumbled to himself, pacing in the living room of Mary's parent's house. "The cops and reporters are everywhere!"

"It was your genius idea," Mary hissed. "I tried to talk you out of it."

"Who do you think you are? You're part of this, too."

"You're the brains of the whole thing."

"When did you get a back bone?" Collin asked.

"When I became a fugitive from the law because of you and your gambling debts."

"Oh, shut up and let me think!"

"Fine." Mary took the pizza box and went back into the room where Richie was laying on a dirty mattress.

He shifted slightly when she came in. Mary wrinkled her nose at the smell of body odor, feces and urine. She untied the gag and put the pizza to his lips. He turned his head, refusing to eat. He was tired, scared, angry and tired of how he was being treated.

"Take it," she whispered, trying to get him to eat again. And again, he turned away. "Please, kid. You have to eat." He continued to look away. "Do you want some water?"

"Why, so I can piss my shorts again?" Richie asked in a hoarse whisper.

"If you eat and drink, I'll clean you up," she bargained. He didn't answer. Sighing, she went back into the living room.

"He's not eating," she said.

"Fine, one less mouth to feed."

"He smells horrible; let's at least clean him up."

"No."

"So we just let him die in there? He has to eat."

"Give me that." He snatched the pizza box and stormed into the back room.

Richie could tell who was coming in by the heavy foot steps. He froze then tried to squirm away when someone grabbed him and sat him roughly up against the wall. They squeezed his jaw open and shoved the food in his mouth.

"Eat it!" they ordered in a stern whisper.

Richie waited a second then spit it out.

They back handed him, making him fall over onto his side. They grabbed his hair, sat him up again, and shoved the same partially chewed food into his mouth. Richie spit it out again.

"Fine!" Collin yelled throwing the soggy mess in Richie's face. "Starve!" He retied the gag, stormed out of the room, took Mary and left.

"Kid's not gonna eat; we're not going to bother wasting our time coming over here at three in the morning," he said driving around the corner before turning the head lights on. "He can just sit there and starve until we figure out what to do with him."

"What do you mean figure out? We're giving him back to his parents, aren't we?"

"He's not worth the trouble. We've got the cops everywhere and he's all anyone talks about. We dump him."

"What about the money? What about starting over in a new place?"

"We'll figure out another way to do it."

"I'm not going to let you shot him."

"He can starve to death, for all I care. I'm just not trying another ransom drop. There's too much at risk."


	7. Dumped

Duncan lay quietly in bed next to Tessa. They hadn't spoken in three days.

"Tess?" he asked.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry about how I've been acting."

"Me, too," she admitted. "I'm just so worried about him and I can't sleep, I can't concentrate on anything."

"I know how you feel. I'm so frustrated that I can't help him. I'm not used to being at someone else's mercy. I guess, since I can't take control of that situation I'm just trying to take control of everything else. If you want to watch the news about it, that's your choice."

Tessa sniffed and snuggled into Duncan's arms. "I'm so sorry."

"Me, too." He held her close, taking comfort that one member of his little family was close enough to comfort. "Just another two days and it will all be over."

* * *

"The whole country has been sending in donations to the fund to raise the ransom for eighteen year old Seacouver native, Richie MacLeod. The total of the account is not being released, though an official statement released just this morning there is now a reward if the teen is found and returned unharmed."

Tessa turned down the volume. "Is this a good idea?" she asked Duncan. "Aren't we just going to get a lot of calls from people who just want the money?"

"Probably. But maybe someone will have something useful."

* * *

"We can't kill him," Mary insisted as Collin flipped through TV channels.

"Hey, who's in charge here?"

"You said you wouldn't hurt him."

"I changed my mind."

"You think you can get away with murder?"

"We've gotten away with kidnapping, haven't we?"

"If we're getting away with it, why are you so nervous?"

"Because we're not going to get the money. This is a nation wide case now, there's no way we can just give the kid back now."

"What were you expecting when you sent the note to the cops?"

"I don't know!" he yelled.

"So what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we have to get rid of him and anything tying us to him."

"You are not killing him!"

"Then we'll just leave him and let him die on his own, I don't care."

"So we take him home."

"And risk getting caught?"

"We didn't get caught the first time."

"Now people are looking for us."

* * *

"No cops," Duncan insisted pacing Lieutenant Travett's office.

"Mr. MacLeod..."

"They said no cops," Tessa said.

"I know that, but we can't let you..."

"What? Can't let us handle it? You're why we're in this mess in the first place. We were this close and now we have to start all over!" Duncan snarled, leaning across the lieutenant's desk.

"And we want you to get your kid back."

"Then let us take the money and get him back! Why do you have to be there?"

"Do you want these people caught or not, Mr. MacLeod?"

"I just want my son back!"

"So we all want the same thing," Travett said, putting his hands up. "We just need a plan."

* * *

At two in the morning, there was a loud pounding on Collin and Mary's apartment door. "Open up!"

Collin knew who it was. His money was due to Benny two hours ago. He collected himself and opened the door.

Two large men in expensive suits walked in and pushed him into the wall. "Where is Benny's money?" one asked.

"I don't have it yet," Collin explained. "But I will, I just need a few more days."

"You've already missed your deadline."

"I know. I tried to call. I have a plan."

"A plan is not good. Cash is."

"I understand that. Please tell Benny that I need one more week. And in return for his generosity I will pay him double what I owe him now."

"If you can't make what you owe now, how are you going to double it?"

"Like I said I have a plan."

"What is it?"

"I can't tell you. It's for your own protection. I don't anticipate this going downhill, but just in case, I don't want you to go down with me."

The second man pulled out a cell phone. He spoke quietly into it, hung up, and nodded at his more vocal companion.

"You have five days."

"That'll be perfect. Thank Benny for me."

* * *

Duncan stood in their bedroom, staring at the suitcase full of money on the bed. The top was open and he mentally recounted the money by adding the thousand dollar bundles. The five hundred thousand dollars was there, just as it had been when he counted the money at the bank, when he put it in the bag, and when Tessa counted it the night before.

Tessa came out of the bathroom and silently told him how nervous she was and knew he was. Tonight was the night of the second ransom drop. They were both nervous and scared. They steadfastly refused to plant a tracking device in the bag, put any traceable marks on the money, wear wires or anything the police suggested. They didn't want to do anything that might upset the kidnappers. If they were cocky enough to send a note to them through the police and then tell them no police, they were cocky enough to think they could get away with not playing by their own rules.

* * *

Collin loaded his rental car with what he needed to put his plan into motion. Three brand new, still sealed in their package, blankets, brand new shoes and a new pair of gloves.

* * *

Duncan got on the phone to tell Lieutenant Travett that they were on their way.

"Is there any way I can persuade you to keep in some sort of contact with my men?"

"I told you, I'll call as soon as we have Richie and give you all the information we can."

"Mr. MacLeod, you better have a photographic memory, because there's no way we can catch up with them. You're going to give them a head start that we won't be able to close."

"That's not my problem, Travett. I just want that boy home as soon as possible."

"Listen to me, MacLeod. Our men are under a lot of pressure to close this case. We all want your boy back, but we need to catch these people. They're making us look like fools."

"Do you think I care what your department looks like? You're the reason I have to do this! I want you and your men to be ready to do your job after I have Richie right in front of me. Not a second before." He slammed the phone down.

Tessa looked at him from her seat on the couch. "When are we leaving?"

Duncan looked at his watch. It was forty five minutes before the drop was scheduled. "Now."

She stood, took his offered hand and they left.

* * *

Richie had been left alone for two days. He had just about given up all hope of them coming to get him when he heard someone approach the locked door of his cell. He knew it was the man, he could tell by the foot steps. Hands sat him up and sat him on the side of the mattress. Richie swallowed what little moisture he had in his mouth waiting for the gag to be untied. When it was, he hoarsely whispered:

"Please, I'm hungry."

He was quickly fed two ham sandwiches and a bottle of water.

"When am I going home?"

He got no response, but the sound of tape coming off a roll. The man in the room with him covered his mouth with the tape, continuing the gag around his head a few times. Then he reinforced the blindfold and the tape that bound his ankles together and his hand behind his back. Then he taped his thin thighs together and then kept his arms from any movement by wrapping tape around his biceps and chest.

Richie tried to fight the bindings but had no energy to do much more than annoy his captor.

He stuffed cotton in Richie's ears, then picked him up and put him over his shoulder.

* * *

Duncan and Tessa stood at the foot of the founder's statue listening for any signs that someone else was there. All they could hear was the sounds of early morning.

They waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

No one came. There was no clue left for them. Nothing out of the ordinary was found, despite their desperate search.

"Duncan," Tessa whispered, terror written across her face. "Where is he?"

Duncan got out his cell phone and dialed Travett's number. "What the hell did you do?" he demanded as the line picked up.

"Where are they?" Travett asked.

"Not here! What did you do?"

"Nothing! I don't have any men closer than three blocks."

"They must have seen them!"

"MacLeod..."

"You were so worried about your precious department's reputation. Now how do you think this is going to look?"

* * *

Collin pulled the rental car up to where he had arranged to meet Mary that night at one a.m. Mary got in quietly and Collin drove off.

"Where are we going? The park is that way," Mary said as they made a left, instead of right hand turn.

"New plans."

"What?"

"We're not going to do the drop."

"What?!"

"We're dumping him."

"Collin!"

"Do you want to get away with this or not?" he snapped. "I got us this far. I'll finish it."

He got on the highway and headed north, towards Canada.

"Where is he?"

"Trunk."

"Do you have to do that?"

"Just shut up."

They drove twenty miles out of town then Collin pulled over near a wooded area by the highway. Making sure there were no cars coming on the long, straight stretch of road, he got out and motioned Mary to get out, too.

He put on the new shoes and had Mary put on his. Then they put on their gloves and took the supplies into the underbrush. They laid out one of the blankets then went to get Richie.

Confused about what was going on, Richie silently allowed them to haul him out of the trunk. When Collin started wrapping him in a thick blanket, he started to wonder what was going on. Collin took Richie's shoulders, Mary his legs and they carried him to where the first blanket had been laid out. They covered Richie's already nearly mummified body with a third, larger, ground colored blanket.

When they got back into the car, Collin shined his high beams where they had left the teen, he was invisible from the roadway. Collin pulled back onto the road and finished the trip north, checking them into a hotel twenty miles from the Canadian border, and thirty from where they had left Richie.


	8. Found

AN: For this chapter and the next were done with the kind help of Lorilei and Aimless for the medical situations. MUCH THANKS TO BOTH OF YOU!!!!

AN2: I have been told that this chap is best read while not eating. The medical situations are not too graphic, but they are descriptive.

* * *

"You still think Richie's involved in this, Powell?" Duncan snarled, stalking past Powell's desk.

"He ain't here, is he?" Powell called after him.

Duncan stopped mid stride and turned around. "Why the hell would he be? He's somewhere scared out of his mind, being held prisoner, because of your men and their... their..."

"Our what?"

"I swear, Powell, the second I can, I am getting you fired. Who do you think you are? Why the hell would Richie do this to us?"

"Maybe he wants the money. Maybe he likes the attention he's getting for it."

"Maybe you need to take this case more seriously."

"Look, MacLeod, I know Ryan. The kid is no good. I would not be surprised at all to find him hiding out in some seedy hotel jerking off at the news coverage."

Duncan grabbed Powell put he collar and pushed the officer back into a wall from in his chair. Other officers jumped to help, but Powell waived them off.

"I'm just looking at the case from a different angle."

"Ass hole," Duncan spat before continuing on to Travett's office. "What do you want?" he demanded.

Travett had a very somber look on his face. "Mr. MacLeod. I have bad news."

"No... Richie's not dead, he-he can't be." Richie couldn't have died. He was immortal.

"We don't know for sure. But we have two John Does that match his description. I need you to come to the morgue with me and see if you can identify either one of the bodies."

Numbly, Duncan nodded. There was nothing he could do but play along. He followed Travett to his car and into the back door of the hospital. The pathologist took Duncan into the pathology lab and pulled two drawers drawing back one sheet, then the other. Duncan breathed a sigh of relief, despite his knowledge. Neither were Richie.

* * *

Richie wasn't sure what to make of all the muffled noises around him. He couldn't make anything out enough to figure out what was going on. Why had they moved him? What was wrong with where he was before? Sure, at first the blankets smelled better and were warmer than his room, but the blankets already smelled as bad as he did and all the layers were making it hard to breathe.

* * *

Duncan told Tessa what Travett had wanted when he got home.

"It wasn't him, was it?" she asked.

"No, it wasn't Richie. Wherever he is, he's alive. I know he is."

* * *

Collin watched the news with satisfaction as the reporter on screen explained the situation.

"Once again, the boy slipped out of reach when the kidnappers did not show up to the scheduled drop early Wednesday morning. The parents had taken painstaking measures to be sure that the Seacouver Police Department was no where near the drop site to assure that they could not foil their second attempt at getting their child back. Turns out the were measures taken in vain."

Mary looked at him from her seat in the corner of the hotel room. "You aren't planning on leaving him there, are you?" she asked.

Collin smirked. "Of course not... at least not permanently. We'll go get him in a day or so."

"What if he dies out there?"

"Not our problem."

* * *

"No, we don't want to do an interview," Tessa snapped, slamming the phone down.

"Tess, why don't we just unplug the phone?" Duncan asked. "Reporters are the only people who call."

"What if Richie calls?"

"Tess..."

"Duncan, the kidnappers have always made him write the notes, why wouldn't they make him call?" Duncan didn't answer her question. "He's alive, Duncan. I won't believe differently until I have no choice."

"Tessa, I'm not saying he's dead."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "I don't know."

The second phone line rang and Tessa answered it before anyone had a chance to screen it. "Hello? Yes... do you have him?...oh, oh, yes....we'll see you there."

"Travett?" Duncan asked when she hung up.

"Yes. They found a boy that matches Richie's description."

"Which hospital?"

"St. Mary's."

Quietly, they both got in the car and drove across town. Duncan could tell Tessa was really worried that they were going to have to identify Richie. As much as he wanted to tell her that the only reason they would have to worry about finding Richie's body was if they found a headless body, he could jeopardize the secret. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to explain his secrecy for many more years.

They met Lieutenant Travett who took them back to look at the body. Tessa took a deep breath to steady herself as the sheet was pulled back. Laying naked on the table was a teen, with blonde curly hair and soft, pale skin.

Finally she found her voice to say, "It's not him."

They would repeat the process three more times in the next two days.

* * *

Richie tried to move...roll, sit up, squirm, anything. He felt some odd pain on his shoulders and arms, but he ignored it. He wiggled and tried to free himself from his poly-cotton blend cocoon. His dry throat let out a few grunts as he tried to work himself free. He yelped and tried to pull away when two pairs of hands gently pushed him back down.

The blankets were unwrapped from around his body and he heard muffled voices as he was lifted up and put on a soft bed. The voices spoke some more and he could feel his bed being moved like it was being carried then it settled down again.

The cotton was taken out of his ears and he heard a voice say. "Lets get all this tape off him."

At first, Richie was glad to feel the tape around his ankels being cut at and loosened, but when they started to gently pull it away it pulled at his hair and skin. He tried to kick the hands away, but a second pair held his leg still. They repeated the process with his hands, and the pain was just as horrible as they pulled the tape off his skin.

The car, which Richie was coherient enough to deduct was an ambulance, started to move and the hands started to cut at the tape around his mouth. Though he would be happy to be rid of it, Richie was not looking forward to the gag coming off.

* * *

Dr. Lindsey was talking with a nurse at the ER desk when an ambulance arrived and a stretcher was wheeled in.

"What is this?" Dr. Lindsey asked, looking at the young man on the stretcher, his cheeks red and swollen under a thick layer of grime, dirt and dust; his eyes were still covered with duct tape.

"He was found at the side of the highway bound and gagged. Looked like he had been there for a few days."

"Get him in exam room four! I want him started on a sodium chloride and dextrose drip right now." She issued the orders and she jogged along side the stretcher. "Hey, kiddo, can you hear me?" she asked the kid when they arrived in the exam room. "Is he awake?"

"In and out," an EMT answered. "He hasn't said anything, though he's fought us a bit."

She took his pulse. "Do we know his name?"

"I think he's that kid off the news."

"Richie?" She remembered the name off the flier that had been posted at every desk. "Richie, can you hear me?" she asked taking a pair of scissors off a tray of instruments. The boy turned his head ever so slightly at the sound of her voice. "Is that your name, Richie?" she asked him. He made a slight noise, and nodded his head a bit. "Nurse, get me some water and a lot of wash cloths, we're going to clean Richie up." Then to the teen: "Richie, I want you to stay absolutely still. I'm going to get this blindfold off you." She took the scissors and cut away the tape at his hair line, like they had done with the gag, not wanting to pull any of his hair out. Luckly she found a cloth had been put over his eyes before the tape had been applied, so the skin wasn't damaged or hurt by the removal.

His eyes were matted shut by his dry, crystallized tears. The eye lids twitched as he instinctively tried to open his eyes, despite the crust.

"Okay, keep your eyes closed. I'm going to wash your face then put some gauze over your eyes while we clean you up so the light won't bother you."

She set to work, gently cleaning his face until it was a soft pink. He winced at the contact. The soft washcloth felt rough and abrasive as it ran over his eyes pulling at the crust gluing his eyelashes, his raw skin and the pimples that covered his face.

"Okay, this is just to block the light out while we look at you," she told him, placing two gauze squares over his eyes then securing them with a gauze wrap. His hand weakly came up and tired to push hers away. "It's okay," she told him gently, grasping his hand. "I'm just afraid the light is going to hurt your eyes. I promise I will take it back off soon." She put his hand back down and finished wrapping the gauze.

"Dr. Lindsey..." an attending nurse said as he cut away Richie's boxer shorts.

"Can you get on your side for me?" she asked, helping Richie roll over. His voice meekly protested the movement not to mention the exposure of his body. His hands moved to block himself from view as much as he could.

He had dried, caked fecal matter from his waist that tapered down to nearly his knees.

"We're going to need a lot more towels. Get me all you can. This kid's a mess. And where is my IV?"

The nurse ran off to get towels and warm water. Dr. Lindsey started getting off what she could with the washcloths she had now. She had to frequently stop and move Richie's hands as he tried to push her way, or block her from touching him.

"Calm down," she told him gently. "I'm just cleaning up a bit." She took his hand and held onto to keep him from getting in the way, so he rolled onto his back. "Very clever," she said, careful to keep a smile in her voice. "The more cooperative you are, the faster this will all be over and you can get some rest."

An orderly came over and held Richie in position on his left side, then his right, Richie slapping at him intermittently the whole time.

It took them over an hour and a couple dozen cloths but they got Richie cleaned up and dried off.

"Now for the hair," she told him, gently helping him sit up. "Let's see what we can do with this." She took up the scissors again, had the orderly support Richie's upper body and began to cut away the tape that remained in his hair. "Don't give us any trouble right now," she warned him. "I don't want to accidentally cut you because you're moving around too much."

Richie tried to pull away when his hair got pulled by the tape. He jumped when the scissors nicked his scalp.

"She warned you," the orderly told him with a chuckle. After that, Richie leaned heavily on the orderly's arms and allowed his hair to be cut.

* * *

Duncan put down the phone and went to talk to Tessa, who was in their bedroom.

"What now?" she asked.

"That was Lieutenant Travett; we need to meet him at County General."

Tessa sighed. "I don't think I want to go. I can't take this anymore."

"Well, then can you at least help me pack some things for Richie?" Duncan asked. "They told us to bring him his toothbrush, some clean clothes and whatever else he may want."

Tessa looked up at him, hope in her eyes. "He's alive?"

Duncan smiled and nodded. "He'll be asleep when we get there. But he's alive and he's okay."


	9. Reunion

Richie was asleep in a darkened room, propped up on his side by a few pillows, facing away from the door when Dr. Lindsey led Duncan and Tessa into his room.

"Is he okay?" Tessa asked. She could see Richie's spine through his skin where his gown was open in the back.

"He's a little dehydrated and malnourished. But unless there are complications in the next few days, I think he's going to be just fine."

"That's it?" Duncan asked. "So just a few days with an IV and he'll be good as new?"

"Well, there are other things we're treating him for, as well," Dr. Lindsey said.

"What else is there? Did they hurt him?"

"There is no evidence of any sort of abuse. Physical or sexual. That's not to say at some point he didn't get a few bumps or bruises, but there were none when we examined him."

"So what's wrong?"

"What happened to his hair?" Tessa asked. She had gone over to Richie's bedside to look him over herself. His curls were gone. His hair was so short, she could barely tell it was there.

"He was pretty dirty when he was brought in. He had lice and fleas in his hair, we had to cut it."

"What's on his face?"

Dr. Lindsey smiled. "Acne. He did get a few knicks when we shaved him, but it's nothing serious."

"What else?" Duncan asked.

"He has a few bed sores, that's why he's on his side. We have those cleaned and bandaged. He also has quite a rash on his buttocks and genitals, which we are treating as well."

"A rash?"

"Prolonged contact to fecal matter."

Duncan nodded and Tessa stroked Richie's pimpled cheek. Richie groaned and moved away. Tessa frowned and took her hand back.

"Anything else?"

Dr. Lindsey got Richie's chart off the foot of his bed and looked it over. "No other injuries. We do have him hooked up to the IV for hydration and nourishment; it also has antibiotics to ward off any infections. We have him sedated and he should be waking up in about eight hours, depending on how tired he is. He's not strong enough to get himself to the bathroom, so we fit him with a catheter. It will also help us closely monitor his urinary output. Measuring the amount of fluids he takes in and puts out will help us see if his kidneys are functioning properly. Also," she pulled up the bottom of his sheets, showing blue boot-like things on both his legs. "we have him in compression boots to prevent blood clots. He's going to hate them, everyone does, but they're going to be necessary for while. And if we're lucky, they'll take his mind off the catheter."

"Can we stay with him?" Tessa asked.

"You can go home and come back when visiting hours start; he's going to be asleep the entire time you'd be gone."

"I don't care. I just want to be able to see him."

"Well, I can't let you stay the entire time he's here. But if you want to stay the first few days, I'll let the nurses know that you have my permission."

"Thank you, Doctor," Duncan said.

"Someone will be in the check on him every couple of hours." She started toward the door. "I'm sorry you had to go through this," she said turning back around. "But I'm glad you got your son back. He's going to be just fine."

* * *

The morning news was a buzz when reports found out that Richie had been found.

"I'm standing out side County General where eighteen year old kidnap victim, Richie MacLeod, was admitted early this morning after being found at the side of Highway 87 by a passing motorist. Richie is listed in stable condition and is being treated for several minor injuries. Doctors are promising a full recovery."

"We're outside police headquarters waiting for Lieutenant Travett to make his statement about the case...oh, here he is!"

"Richie MacLeod was found this morning at approximately one a.m. by a motorist traveling south on Highway 87. We are searching the scene for any evidence that may lead us to the apprehension of the kidnappers. We have no further information at this time..."

"The country has been sharing in the MacLeod family's fear and anticipation, and now we can share in their joy. Richie has been found and he is alive and well..."

"Well wishers have been sending cards and small gifts to the hospital for the teen..."

"His parents released an official statement today, thanking everyone for their prayers and support. They appreciate everything that the community has done for them over the past weeks and they will always be grateful..."

* * *

Tessa smiled as Richie started to stir late the next afternoon. She reached out and cupped his cheek with her hand.

"Richie," she whispered. "Are you awake?"

He sighed and nuzzled her hand. His eyes fluttered open for a split second then closed again.

"Richie? Open your eyes."

He groaned and snuggled down into the pillows.

"Come on, sweetie."

"Tess, he's not waking up," Duncan said. "Not yet."

"He opened his eyes."

"He's asleep now."

"He wasn't a second ago."

"He is now."

"Why are we arguing?" she asked. "What does it matter if he's awake now or before?"

Duncan smiled at her and hugged her. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you so much. I wouldn't have been able to get through this without you." Tessa held onto him and cried softly into his shoulder. He rocked her gently and whispered in her ear. "It's over now. We can take Richie and go to Paris, start over and we can forget this every happened."

Slowly Richie opened his eyes. He had no idea where he was. It was dark and everything was fuzzy. He looked up and saw two people sitting near him. Scared, he closed his eyes again. Then he heard a very familiar voice say: "We can forget this ever happened."

He knew that voice! It was Mac!

"I just want to get him home."

That was Tessa! He was home! He was safe! Finally, it was all over!

Before he could stop himself, Richie sobbed loudly.

"Richie?"

Duncan and Tessa were next to him immediately, sitting him up and hugging him, stroking his hair, talking to him, kissing him and all he could do was finally let out all the tears he had been holding back for so long.

"You okay?" Duncan asked. "Did they hurt you?"

Richie just cried and shook his head.

"We were so worried about you." Tessa held onto the teen, refusing to let him go, which was more than alright with him. "You poor baby," she whispered.

The door opened and a nurse looked in. She saw what was going on and quietly slipped back out.

Richie cried, hiding his face from view in Tessa's shoulder, until he was hiccupping and gasping for breath. It felt good to finally cry; it was a release for all the tension and angst of the last few weeks.

"Why don't you lie back down," Duncan suggested.

Richie shook his head and held onto Tessa. "It'll be okay," she told him. "You're going to wear yourself out this way." She helped him back down, pulled the blankets back up, then sat at the edge of his bed, holding onto his hand.

Duncan pulled his chair closer to the bed and took Richie's other hand and smiled at him. "You look pretty tired."

"I'm okay," Richie answered, his voice tight, hoarse and soft.

"How are we doing in here?" Dr. Lindsey asked, opening the door. "I hear someone woke up." She walked to the bed and crouched beside Duncan so she was eye level with Richie. "How are you feeling?"

Richie shrugged and looked at Duncan.

"I think he's feeling shy," he said.

Dr. Lindsey smiled. "That's just fine, Richie. I understand. But can you do me a favor and let me look you over?" He nodded. "Okay. Can you roll onto your stomach for me?" She checked the sores on his back and his rash. Then had him roll back over and she checked his blood pressure and temperature. "One more thing." She put her stethoscope to his abdomen.

"My stomach hurts," he told her softly.

She smiled at him. "I'm sure it does. That's just gas. Your body's going to get rid of it, one way or another and you'll feel better."

He nodded.

"Does anything else hurt?"

Richie nodded.

"What is it?"

His lips quirked into an awkward embarrassed grin, the color rose in his pale cheeks, and he nodded toward the foot of his bed.

"Ah," she nodded her understanding. "Anything else?"

"I have to go to the bathroom."

"That feeling you're going to have to get used to. Do you know what a catheter is?" He nodded. "That's what's giving you that feeling."

Richie nodded slowly, taking it all in. He was overwhelmed to wake up and find himself hooked to so many things. Everywhere he looked there was a wire attaching him to something.

"How is he?" Tessa asked, seeing that Richie wasn't going to speak again.

"Everything seems to be going perfectly. I just got finished going over his blood tests, and he has a few things that are too high or too low, but it's nothing that we can't fix very easily. All his vitals are good: he's young and healthy so I don't foresee any complications. As soon as his system regulates itself in a few weeks, he can go home good as new."

"Weeks?"

"I understand wanting to get him home as soon as possible, but it's going to take his body some time to recover from this. I can't tell you how quickly he'll recover; that's up to his body, but I can promise that I'll get him home as soon as possible."

* * *

Richie was fast asleep. He was finally safe, warm and -relatively- comfortable. He felt at peace and relaxed for the first time since the kidnapping. He opened his eyes and looked around the room.

No one was there. Richie looked at the clock, a little past one a.m. 'They must have been sent home,' Richie thought, snuggling back down into the pillows and blankets and closing his eyes.

He heard the door open and opened his eyes to greet which ever nurse was there to embarrass him by cleaning his butt and measuring his pee. But it wasn't a nurse. It was some man. Squinting, Richie tired to make out his face, but it wouldn't come into focus. He saw the man reach into the back of his waistband and pull a gun.

"Don't you say a word," a familiar, chilling voice commanded as the man approached the bed.

"No..." Richie begged. "Please, don't."

"Shut up!"

Richie tried to scream as the man grabbed him, but the man put his hand over Richie's mouth to muffle the yells.

Soon everything went black and Richie felt he was tied to something large and warm.

"No!" he screamed, his voice cracking and protesting the use, as he tried to break free. "No, let me go!"

"Richie! Richie, calm down!" Duncan's voice cut in.

Richie's eyes flew open, he was still in the hospital room.

"No!" he screamed, his voice coming out in squeaks. "Somebody help!" He tried to push Duncan, who was holding him, away from him.

"Richie, shh!" He checked the various tubes Richie was attached to, to make sure nothing was being obstructed or pulled at.

"No!"

"Richie, Richie, hush," Duncan tried to calm him. A nurse rushed in and Duncan waved her away. "Bad dream. We're fine."

"No..." Richie begged quietly still pushing on Duncan's chest.

"Okay, I'm going to let you, alright, Richie?" Duncan got up off the bed.

"Leave me alone," Richie turned away and hid his face in the pillows. "Go away."

Duncan took a deep breath. "Richie, this is Mac, do you want me to leave? Just say the word and I'll go home."

"Leave me alone."

Duncan got his coat off the chair and passed Tessa on his way out.

"Where are you going?" she asked, handing him the cup of coffee she had gone to get.

"Richie wants me to leave."

"What?"

"He had a bad dream; I scared him."

"So you're leaving?"

"He told me to."

"He was just disoriented from the dream, you know Richie. It takes him an hour to wake up after he gets up."

"Just the same. I'm going to take a taxi home; take your time, okay?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Can you check his IVs to make sure he didn't pull anything out?"

"All right," she said.

"You better get in there; he seemed pretty scared."

Tessa nodded and went to Richie's room. Richie was laying on his side, quietly, his eyes closed and his breath shaky.

"Richie?" she asked quietly.

"Hum?" he grunted, not turning.

"Are you alright?"

He sniffed. "Yeah."

"You don't sound it."

"It was just a dream," he mumbled.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked. Richie started to sit up, but Tessa stopped him. "Lay down." She sat on the edge of the bed, and put her hand on his shoulder. "What was it about?" She did a quick check of his IVs and found everything to be in the correct place.

"He was here."

"Who?"

"Him."

"And what happened?"

"He had a gun. He was gonna kill me," he voice was soft and shook a bit. "He grabbed me and there was nobody here."

"It was a dream; it wasn't real."

"It felt real."

"I'm sure it did. Do you want me to stay with you tonight?"

Richie paused and stared at the wall. "Will you?"

"Of course. I'll stay as long as you want me to."


	10. The Details of the Case

Duncan sat nervously by Richie's bed as the teen slept. He wanted to reach out and take Richie's hand, but last time he had touched Richie, he had gone into hysterics. Tessa was holding Richie's hand, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb.

"You look worse than Richie," she told Duncan.

"Tessa, I shouldn't even be here, I scare him."

"You scared him," she corrected. "There's a difference. He was having a nightmare that someone was trying to kill him; he would have pushed anyone away. And that was days ago."

"But he pushed me, Tessa. He told me to leave. He knew who I was and he told me to leave. I'm supposed to protect him and he's scared of me."

"Mac..." Richie said groggily.

"Go back to sleep, Rich," Duncan said gently.

"I'm not scared of you," Richie told him. "I'm scared of him."

"I told you," Tessa whispered to Duncan.

"Rich..."

"I didn't know it was you, honest. At least not at first; I thought you were him. In my dream, he was here and he had a gun and he grabbed me and then you were holding onto me and you wouldn't let me go and I wasn't really awake and I wasn't thinking clearly and I didn't mean it. And then I was just so embarrassed..."

"Richie..."

"Don't be mad at me, Mac."

"I'm not mad at you."

"Then why haven't you been here? The past three days, it's just been Tess."

"Richie..."

"How's everybody?" a nurse asked coming into the room. "Are you up for a little walking tonight?" she asked Richie checking his vitals.

"Sure."

"Good. I'm sure everyone will be glad to see you." The nurse went about her duties, asking Richie a few questions as she did. "I'll be by at five for that walk," she told him, putting his chart back at the foot of his bed.

Richie nodded and gave her a little smile, that turned into a cringe as the boots on his feet constricted. "I hate these things," he mumbled.

The nurse smiled at him. "The more we get you walking the less you have to wear them."

When the nurse left the room, the family was quiet until Richie softly spoke up. "Mac, you're not mad?"

"No, Rich," Duncan assured him, putting his hand over Tessa and Richie's. "I thought I was scaring you and I don't want you to be scared anymore."

"I think this was all a misunderstanding," Tessa said. "If you two would just talk instead of jumping to conclusions, things like this wouldn't happen."

"Oh? And you're so perfect?" Richie challenged with a grin, the mood of the room changing.

"Yes, I am."

"Somehow I doubt that."

They were laughing and teasing each other when Dr. Lindsey came in.

"How's everything going in here?" she asked.

"I dunno, are you here to unhook anything?" Richie asked.

"Not yet." She took a thermometer out of her pocket and stuck it in Richie's mouth. Richie frowned and folded his arms. "The usual complaints?" she asked. He rolled his eyes and nodded. Richie always complained about three things: the catheter, the constriction boots and the lack of real food. So far all he had gotten anyone to bring him was a bowl of an off-white oatmeal like substance.

"A nurse was just in here checking on him," Tessa said.

"Oh, we must have some lines of communication crossed." The doctor consulted Richie's chart and sure enough, everything had been checked not fifteen minutes ago. "Well, everything is looking good," she said. "Richie is progressing a bit faster than we had hoped he would." She compared the reading of the thermometer to what the nurse had written in his chart a few minutes earlier; everything matched up

"So, how soon do I get to go home?" he asked.

"I don't know, how soon can you stick to a schedule?" she asked him, listening to his breathing, heartbeat, then bowels.

"How soon can I get some real food?"

Dr. Lindsey smiled. "How soon can you say catheter?"

Richie frowned at her. She raised her eyebrows. "Caferter," he mumbled.

Tessa smiled. Duncan looked from Tessa to the Doctor. "Did I miss something?" he asked.

"Dr. Lindsey promised Richie a bacon cheese burger if he learns to say 'catheter' correctly," Tessa explained. "He just can't seem to get it right."

Duncan smiled. "Cathhhh," he said. "Like 'Cathy'. Cath-e-ter"

"Cathh-e-ter..." Richie repeated.

"There you go, catheter."

"Cathh-e-ter," he told Dr. Lindsey.

"Try it at a normal speed," she told him.

"Caferter!"

She winked. "Looks like someone's getting hot mush for dinner."

"Caf..Cath..Cath-e-ter...Caferter...go away," he suddenly ordered.

"Richie, that wasn't very nice," Tessa scolded.

"You gotta go, too," he said.

"Why?"

"Cause I gotta go. So if I gotta go, you gotta go cause I can't go unless you go so you gotta go so I can go cause I'm not gonna go until you do!"

Duncan smiled. "Until we what?"

"Go!"

"Go where?"

"Out!"

"Out where?"

"Outside!"

Dr. Lindsey smiled. "Now I see where he gets it. Let me help you." She reached to help him move from bed to the toilet-like chair by his bed.

"I can do it," he insisted.

"I'd really rather you let me at least be here while you do it."

"You wanna watch me take a dump?"

"No, when you get settled, I'll leave you alone."

"Fine," he groaned. "But you guys gotta leave," he told Tessa and Duncan.

"You heard him," Dr. Lindsay smiled. Duncan looked at Richie then the doctor, it was obvious what he was thinking. "Don't worry, I'm stronger than I look. If there is a problem I can handle it."

"Duncan," Tessa took his arm. "We'll be in the hall."

A few minutes later, Dr. Lindsay came out. "He was right, he did it just fine on his own."

"So he's doing well?" Duncan asked.

"He's been having a few nightmares. But he is getting stronger everyday. He's actually met a few goals early. He can walk as far and as easily as we had hopped he would next week."

"That's good," Tessa said.

"What about everything else?" Duncan asked.

"Well, his bowels aren't cooperating quite as nicely as his leg muscles are. He's still very irregular, diarrheic, and gassy. It's taking his body more time than we had expected to get used to regular feedings and proper nutrition. It's only a matter of time before this clears itself up, but until then there are only a few things he can eat. None of which he seems to like very much, but honestly, if the biggest problem we have is him being a picky eater, we don't have anything to worry about."

"That's good to know."

"I did, however, want to talk to you in private," Dr. Lindsey said. "Like I said, there's nothing to worry about with Richie, but, the police have wanted to question him since he got here, and until now he's been in no condition to do it. But now, from my standpoint, I think he can handle it. So I'm leaving it up to you as to when you think he's ready. I can give them any constraints you want, a time limit, a certain time of day they can come, requirements as to who can and can't be there, anything you want."

"I think we'll let him decide," Tessa said. "He'll know when he's ready."

"I would suggest you get him to do it while he's here. As long as he's here, I have jurisdiction to impose any requirements; if he waits until he goes home, they're not going to let anyone tell them what to do. Also, the sooner he talks about it the more accurate his details will be. With his nightmares, he may start getting details confused."

"We'll talk to him once he's done," Duncan said. "Whenever that is... should it take him this long?"

"It's taken him anywhere from five to almost fifteen minutes to handle this. He's doing fine." She glanced at her watch. "Well, I need to make some rounds. He knows that when he's done he's to call a nurse; they'll help him with anything he may need. I have a feeling he may have you banished until it's all handled. There are vending machines down the hall and the cafeteria is the next floor down."

"Thank you, Doctor."

After ten minutes had passed and there was no word from Richie that he was done, Duncan went down the hall and got himself a cup of coffee. When he came back, a nurse was heading into Richie's room, Tessa still in the hall.

"Sure you don't want any?" Duncan asked, offering his Styrofoam cup. Tessa shook her head. He shrugged and took a sip. It was chalky and had the vague taste of dirt, but it was hot and gave him something to concentrate on.

It felt strange, odd somehow. He had been worried about Richie for so long, and the teen was just on the other side of the wall, his old self again almost as if nothing had happened and he was just in the hospital for some routine, minor surgery. Only Richie's subconscious seemed to recognize what sort of danger he had been in.

"You can go in, now," the nurse said exiting the room, careful not to subject Duncan and Tessa to what she had gone in for.

Richie was back in bed, a little pink around the ears, when they went in.

"Are you alright?" Tessa asked him, resuming her seat by his bed.

"Fine."

"Rich, we have to talk," Duncan said.

"The cops wanna talk to me, right?"

"How did you know?" Tessa asked.

He shrugged. "I knew they'd want to sooner or later."

"You have forty five minutes," Dr. Lindsey told Travett, opening the door to Richie's room.

"Of course." He went in and took a seat in the empty chair by Richie's bed.

Richie was sitting up staring at his sheet. Tessa was on the other side of the bed from Lieutenant Travett, holding Richie's right hand and Duncan was standing behind Tessa, having given up his seat for the lieutenant.

"Hi, Richie, I'm Lieutenant Travett; I've been working on your case."

"Hi," Richie answered softly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess."

"That's good. The doctor tells me you're making great progress." Richie didn't answer. "I need to ask you some questions about what happened. And I understand that some of them may make you uncomfortable, but I need you to answer as truthfully as you can with as much detail as you can, alright?" Richie nodded. "Okay, I want to start off by telling you that there is nothing to be embarrassed about or ashamed of. None of this is your fault and no one thinks it is." Travett glanced up at Duncan who gave him a look. "Are you ready, Richie?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, do you know who kidnapped you?"

"No."

"Did you ever see a face?"

"No."

"Do you know how many there were?"

"Two... I think."

"Okay. That's good. Were there two men, two women, one of each?"

"One of each, I think."

"Good." He wrote what Richie was saying on a notepad.

"Do you know where you were, while they had you?"

"No."

"Did you see anything, ever?"

"No."

"Alright. Let's try it this way. I want you to think back to the night they kidnapped you. What happened that night? I want every detail you can think of."

Richie swallowed and nodded, closing his eyes. "I went to bed around midnight, maybe twelve thirty. I'm not sure when, but I heard the kitchen door open."

"Did you hear glass breaking?"

"No, just the door opening."

"Then what happened?"

"I tried to go back to sleep. Then, I heard them come down the hall and open my door."

"You did look to see who it was?"

"I thought it was Mac, sometimes I hear him check in on me before he goes to bed," Richie said.

"So you just continued to try to sleep?"

"Yes."

"Okay. So these people came in your room. Then what happened?"

"I heard him come to my bed. He said 'wake up' and I was confused, cause it didn't sound like Mac. I opened my eyes, and there was a gun in my face." He tightened his grip on Tessa's hand.

"What happened then?"

"Someone gagged me. They took me into the kitchen and made me write the note. While he told me what to write she taped my ankles. Then my wrists..."

"In front or behind your back?"

"Behind." He took a deep breath. "Then they blindfolded me and carried me out to their car."

"Did you scream?"

"I tried to."

"Okay. That's good information. Can you tell me how they treated you?"

Richie shrugged. "They were hardly ever there. They'd just show up randomly with food."

"Okay. Did you ever see anything?"

"No, the last thing I saw before I woke up here was the note they made me write."

Travett sighed. "What sort of things did you hear?"

Richie shook his head. "The usual stuff...cars, I heard kids playing sometimes; I think I heard someone mowing their lawn."

"It sounds like you were in a neighborhood."

"Yeah, I think it was a house," Richie said. "I remember hearing a garage door whenever they moved me."

"Did you ever hear them use any names?"

"They barely said anything around me. All I ever heard was 'shut up' or 'eat'."

Travett paused and looked over his meager notes. "Did they ever hurt you, Richie?"

"He hit me a few times, when I made him mad."

"How did you make him mad?"

"I refused to eat."

"Did they feed you regularly?"

"I don't know. I couldn't tell time."

"What sort of things did they give you?"

"Mostly burgers and pizza."

Travett perked up a bit. "Was it homemade? Did they cook for you?"

"No. The burgers were from Burger King."

"What about the pizza? Could you tell where it was from?"

"Uh..."

"You really need to think, Richie. This may be our only lead; do you know where it was from?"

"How is pizza gonna help?"

"If you were given pizza for a month, maybe we can track sales. Think, Richie. Did it taste familiar?"

"Tasted a little like Pizza Hut to me."

"Okay." He wrote it down. "I think that's it for now," he said, getting up. "If you think of anything, Richie, I want you to call me." Travett handed him a business card. "You can reach me anytime, okay?"

"Sure." Richie took the card and looked at it.

"I'll walk you out," Duncan said, moving toward the door. "Well?" he asked once they were in the hallway and the door was closed behind them.

"I'm going to tell you the truth, Mr. MacLeod. He gave me nothing."

"I thought you said that the food helped."

"If he had come up with something less popular it may have. I can't tell you how many locations we have of those places... Dozens. I'll try, but chances are it won't do us any good."

"Are you telling me that you have no more information now than you did before?"

"We were hoping they may have slipped up and given Richie some sort of clue. They didn't. At least not that he's remembering right now. These people knew what they were doing. There were not prints in your apartment, none on what we got from the first drop, none on the second letter... Richie never saw anything, never heard anything helpful. We have nothing."


	11. Home

Duncan stopped by the nurse's station on his way to visit Richie.

"Can I help you?" the woman behind the desk asked.

"I hope so. I'm Duncan MacLeod; I'm Richie's father... I know he's been going on walks and I was hoping I could get permission to take him for a short walk in the courtyard. Would that be possible?"

The woman gave him a pleasant smile. "His doctor is Dr. Lindsay, correct?" she asked picking up the phone.

"Yes."

She spoke into the phone for a moment then hung up. "Dr. Lindsay will be up in a moment; she would like to speak with you personally."

"Okay."

They engaged in pleasant small talk until Dr. Lindsay appeared down the hall, walking toward them.

"Hello, Mr. MacLeod," she greeted him.

"Hi."

"I hear you want to take Richie on a walk?"

"Yes. I know it's probably against regulations or something; that's why I asked you before I mentioned it to him. I just can't stand looking at him in that bed anymore."

"Well, I will make you a deal. I know that as a father of an obviously athletic boy, it's probably very natural for you to want to push him a little bit. If we come to an agreement and you take him out, you cannot push him at all. He does that enough himself."

"I know he does. I won't push him. What's the agreement?"

"He rides down to the courtyard, he rides back, he walks, no jogging, no bouncing, no cute footwork, he walks. Robe on, shoes on."

"Agreed."

"I also want an orderly to go down with you, just in case his body decides he can't take it and quits suddenly on him. Of course, you will be given your privacy, but I just want someone there for emergency."

"Of course.

"Okay. Then you can go tell him the news, and I'll send for a wheel chair."

"Thank you, doctor. I really appreciate it."

"I'm sure Richie will, too."

With a nod of thanks, he went down the hall to Richie's room where he was talking sports with a nurse who was sitting by his bed obviously trying to coax him into eating something.

"Didn't mean to interrupt," Duncan said from the doorway.

"Hey, Mac."

The nurse smiled and stood up from her seat. "If you can get him to eat, I'll forgive you."

"Richie..."

"Have you seen this stuff, man? I don't know what it is, but I know it's not food."

"Just a few more days, Richie," she told him. "And if you'd eat it, you'd be that much closer."

"I'll get him to eat it," Duncan promised, taking her place.

"Good, because I sure can't." She smiled and left the room, leaving them alone.

"Well..." Duncan picked up the bowl off the tray in front of Richie. He stirred it around for a minute, then scooped some up.

"What are you doing?" Richie asked.

"Here comes the airplane...." Duncan teased weaving the spoon in the air toward Richie's mouth.

Richie closed his mouth and raised his eyebrows. The message was clear: I don't think so.

"I'll make you a deal," Duncan said, dropping the spoon back into the bowl. "You eat this and we'll go for a walk."

"Nice try, Mac, but I've already seen the hall."

"I'll take you down into the garden."

"I don't think they'll let you."

Duncan smirked. "Already have permission. But you have to eat first." Duncan pushed the bowl toward Richie, who made no move to touch it. "You're going to have to eat anyway, might as well get something out of it."

Richie wrinkled his nose and picked up the spoon. "I'd rather eat that oatmeal you keep trying to force down my throat."

"I'll remember that when you get home."

"Gee, thanks." Richie picked up the spoon and took a bite of his healthful mystery mush.

"I bet that would taste better if you ate it when they brought it to you."

Richie swallowed. "One would think..."

"Doesn't make a difference?"

"Not one bit."

"Well, hurry up and eat so we can get out of this room," Duncan encouraged.

Duncan was helping Richie into the robe he had brought him, when an orderly arrived with a wheelchair.

"Hey, kid."

Richie looked up from his feet after sliding them into his slippers. "Hey, Brad. Got my wheels?"

"Sure do, kid. You ready?" Brad asked, positioning the chair and putting the break on.

"Almost."

"I brought you something special." Brad picked up a belt off the seat of the chair.

"Oh, Brad, you shouldn't have..."

"Put it on, kid." Richie took the belt and wrapped it around his waist under his robe. "Oh, want to know a secret?" Brand asked, unhooking the catheter bag from the side of the bed. "Don't want mere strangers gauging your output? Just hook it to your belt, and hide it from prying eyes." He closed Richie's robe, hiding the belt and bag.

"Cool." Richie nodded. "Mac, can you bring that around for me?" he asked pointing at the IV poll. "Oh, duh, sorry. Mac, this is Brad, Brad, Mac."

Brad smiled and shook Duncan's hand as he rounded the bed with the poll. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too."

"Okay, I'm ready," Richie announced, pushing up off the bed. Brad and Duncan helped him into the chair and they all spoke pleasantly as they rode the elevator to the first floor and went to the indoor courtyard at the center of the hospital.

"Here we are." Brad stopped the chair. "Up, we have to train the newbie." He gave Richie a hand out of the chair and didn't let go until Richie was steady on his feet, holding onto the IV poll. "All you have to do," he told Duncan. "Is reach back here and grab onto the belt. Don't try to hold him up, but keep a grip just in case he stumbles."

"I can do that." Duncan took Brad's place and slid his hand behind Richie's robe. "Anything else?"

"Just let him lead. I'll be right here in case you need me." Brad took a seat on a bench along the walk.

"You ready, Rich?" Duncan asked.

"Let's go," he replied.

They started off down the smooth, slightly rubbery path, at a slow, but steady pace. Duncan held onto Richie's belt tightly with one hand, and gently gripped his arm with the other. Richie didn't protest the extra help and held onto the IV poll, rolling it along beside him.

"I wanted to talk to you, Rich," Duncan said as they made the first turn.

"About what?"

"I shouldn't have left the other night," Duncan started.

"Are you talking about the nightmare? Mac, I told you to leave."

"I shouldn't have listened. You were scared and embarrassed; I should have stayed with you. And I should have come back the next day. The truth is, I am at a complete loss of what to do."

"Mac..."

"Hear me out. If this had been an immortal, I would know what to do. I would have known where you were and how to rescue you. This would be over; it never would have gotten this far, you wouldn't be here right now. You'd be at home, complaining about doing the filing and eating foods you've never heard of." He paused, and Richie nodded, taking it all in. "But the way it did happen... I have no way to help you. I can't go out there and get whoever did this to you. I have to sit back and let the FBI do all the work... I feel so useless and helpless."

Richie snorted. "You felt helpless? Next time we'll trade places. I'll sit at home knowing everything that's going on and you can sit in a room by yourself completely outta the loop."

"I would, Richie," Duncan said, stopping them both and looking the teen directly in the eye. "In a heart beat. I'd trade with you now, then, and anytime in the future." When Richie tried to look away, he forced his eyes back to his. "I will always put your safety first and foremost. I never want to see you in danger. And it kills me to look at you now, see what condition you're in, and know that you were in such worse shape just a few weeks ago...there was nothing I could do...even now... I had to get permission to get just to take you for a walk. There are only certain hours I can see you..."

"A control freak with no control over anything."

Duncan smiled. "Basically." He changed his grip and he and Richie started walking again.

After a few more minutes of walking, Richie decided he was ready to get off his feet, so they headed back to where Brad was waiting for them.

"Do you really think I'm a control freak?" Duncan asked, as he helped Richie into the chair.

Richie smiled up at him. "You started it."

* * *

A week later, Duncan and Tessa arrived at visiting hours and were greeted by a very perky Richie.

"What's all this about?" Duncan asked. "Did you get your burger?"

Richie grinned. "No, better. I graduated potty training last night."

"What?"

"No more caferter."

Tessa laughed. "Catheter."

"Whatever, the important thing is I get to use a real toilet now!"

"That's great, Rich!" Duncan smiled at him.

"And check this out." Richie swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up.

"Whoa, Richie," Duncan moved beside him. The day he had taken Richie for a walk then teen had been strong, but unsteady at times.

"No, Mac, it's cool. I'm fine. See?" He bounced on the balls of his feet. Walked to the door and back. "Nothin' to it! I don't need anyone holding onto me anymore."

Tessa smiled and shook her head. "Back in bed."

"One thing first." He went to the locker like cabinet in the corner of the room and dug around in the bag Duncan and Tessa had brought him almost two weeks earlier. Grinning, he turned around and held up his prize, a clean pair of boxers. "I just realized I can wear something other than this dumb thing now." He pulled at his hospital gown.

"You better ask first," Tessa said. "What about your rash?"

Richie blushed a little and his hands instinctively went to check on his chapped rear. How could he forget about that? It wasn't sore anymore but it got checked on every few hours.

"Don't tell me you're doing jumping jacks again," Dr. Lindsey sighed from the doorway.

Richie smiled at her. "Can I put pants on now?"

"Can you say..."

"Caferter," he interrupted dropping the shorts back in the cabinet and closing the door. "You're just gonna hold that over me for the rest of my life, aren't you?"

"You know, maybe you should stay on this healthy diet," Duncan commented. "You can have your junk food back when you can say catheter."

"That's not funny, Mac."

"So have you really caught him doing jumping jacks?" Duncan asked the doctor.

"Oh, jumping jacks, sit ups, push ups..." Dr. Lindsey listed off. "I think someone wants to go home. But someone also knows he's not going home until..."

"I know, I know," Richie cut in. "You don't have to keep telling me. It's not like it's my fault. If I got some real food maybe I'd be able to take a decent dump."

The doctor smiled at him. "Maybe. So, guess what time it is."

"Tool time?"

"Nope." She put on her rubber gloves.

"Oh," he cringed. "Touch Richie in embarrassing places time?"

"That's the one. But on the bright side your days here are numbered."

* * *

"Mr. MacLeod!" a reporter yelled as Duncan tried to walk out to the car from the hospital. "How is your son doing?"

"Any word on the kidnappers?"

"How long until we can speak to Richie?"

"Will he be released from the hospital soon?"

"What sort of injuries did he get?"

"Is there going to be anymore information released?"

Duncan kept quiet and got into the car and drove away. He was ready for Richie to come home, but he wasn't ready to see how the teen would react to all the publicity he had been getting since his disappearance.

* * *

"Rich," Duncan whispered a week later, gently shaking the sleeping teen. "Rich, wake up."

Richie pushed his hand away and rolled over. "Umshepng," he grumbled.

"C'mon, Rich, time to get up and get dressed." Duncan put Richie's clothes on the foot of the hospital bed.

Dr. Lindsey came in with a smile. "Good morning, Richie," she greeted. "You ready to go home?"

"Mauhh!" Richie groaned as the lights were flipped on.

"Come on, Rich. The sooner you get up and get dressed the sooner you can go back to sleep at home."

Dr. Lindsey gently took out Richie's IV and put a band-aid in its place. "I want to give you one more look over, while your dad and mom finish all the paperwork."

Richie passed his tests and insisted on getting dressed himself. An orderly showed up, right as he was tying his shoes, with a wheelchair.

"You leaving?" the tall muscular man asked.

"Yup, sorry, Stanley, guess you'll need to find a new midnight poker buddy." Richie straightened up and allowed Stanley to help him into the wheelchair.

"Maybe I'll find one that isn't so good and I'll make a little money." He pushed Richie out to the reception area where Duncan and Tessa were signing the last of the release papers.

"That should be it," the nurse on duty smiled, glancing over the papers quickly. "Richie needs to be here Wednesday at three for PT and you need to schedule a check up for him in about a week."

"We can do that," Tessa said, taking Richie's bag from Stanley.

"Okay. Richie's free to go," the nurse said.

"Do we need to keep him on any sort of diet or exercise schedule?" Duncan asked.

"He should be okay. As far as his diet goes, introduce the fattier foods slowly, he can't go to a country buffet and eat chicken fried steak and fired okra tonight, but a reasonably healthy diet should be just fine. His body can tell you what he can and can't handle. Exercise wise, he needs to take it easy, but he's not confined to bed by any means. He just has to listen to his body when it sets limits."

Duncan smiled at Richie. "Easier said than done."

They had leaked to the press that Richie was to be released from the hospital after lunch that day, so there were very few people there as Richie was wheeled to the door. Richie looked around; he made eye contact with a man sitting in the waiting area. He gave him a polite smile and looked back toward the doors that lead to his freedom.

Collin nodded at the boy as he smiled at him. He had done it. There was no recognition in the kid's eyes. Everything was working out perfectly.

"Can we put the top down?" Richie asked as Duncan started the engine to the T-Bird.

"I don't know, Rich, it's a little cold out."

"C'mon, please? This is the first time I've seen the outside in a long time," Richie begged. "I'm sick of being closed in, I wanna feel the... the... please? I'll stay in bed the rest of the day," he bargained.

"It's a short drive, Duncan," Tessa said. "Maybe some fresh air would be good for him."

Duncan sighed. "You promise you won't push yourself?"

"Swear it," Richie grinned.

"Alright. Button your coat up."

Richie snapped his jacket up to the collar and leaned back with a content sigh as the fresh, crisp, early morning air rushed over him, messing his short, but steadily grown hair, and chilling his skin.

All too soon the car pulled to a stop in the alley behind the store. Richie went upstairs and headed to his room to make good on his promise when Tessa took his arm and lead him toward the roof access.

"I want you to see something," she told him.

They emerged on the roof and she turned him so he was facing east. The sun was just starting to rise. The sky was royal blue except for a small tinge of pink on the horizon. The moon and stars faded as the sun began to peek over the horizon. The sky slowly turned a vibrant red, turning the clouds pink. Then, so subtly it was almost instant, the sky was orange and the sun was in full view just above the city buildings.

"I thought you'd like to see the sun rise."

Richie looked at her, a sad smile on his face. "I've never seen the sun rise before."

"Never?"

Richie shook his head. "I like my sleep."

"I love seeing the sunrise. It makes everything feel so new, clean. It's a fresh start. Everything that happened the day before never happened. Everything is brand new." She put her arm around his shoulders and gave his a one armed hug. "Welcome to your fresh start. Everything that happened before is over now."


	12. A Decision

Richie looked at his room for the first time in two months. It felt strange to be home again. Duncan had put Richie's bag on his bed and was unpacking it when Richie walked in.

"I can do that," Richie said.

"Are you sure you don't want to rest a bit? You look a little tired."

Richie thought about it. He was a little tired. "Okay."

"Alright." Duncan gave Richie a warm hug as he passed him to get out of the room. "I'll make you some breakfast when you decide you're ready."

"Thanks."

"Good to have you home again." With that, Duncan closed the door and left Richie alone.

Richie took off his shoes, socks and jeans and got into bed. It was a little awkward. After all, this was where it had all started.

'Don't be stupid,' he told himself, pulling the covers up to his chin. 'Home is safe.'

He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come.

It wasn't long before his easy uneventful dreams took a turn. The simple everydayness about his dream was interrupted when Duncan and Tessa had disappeared from the loft. Richie searched the loft, all the bedrooms, the store, the office, the storage room...he was left completely alone. That was when he heard it. The back door opening. Light, easy footsteps through the workshop, then the kitchen door opening.

It was Duncan and Tessa, back from wherever they had gone, Richie realized. He went to greet them and ask about dinner. Duncan and Tessa were not in the kitchen. No one was. But Richie had distinctly heard them come in. He heard footsteps behind him. He tried to turn around, but his ankles were bound. He felt someone grab his arms and try to bind his hands behind his back.

"No!" he tired to break free but they held him too tightly. "Help!" he screamed. "Someone help me!"

"Richie!"

"Let me go! Please!"

"Richie!"

"Please! Please, just let me go!"

"Richie!"

"I just want to go home! Why won't you leave me alone?"

"Richie, Richie wake up!"

"Please!"

"Wake up!"

Richie's eyes snapped open. "Mac!" He was back in his bed, tangled in the sheets and blankets, Duncan holding him around his shoulders, Tessa holding his hands. "Tessa." He panted and stopped struggling.

"It was just a dream, Richie," Tessa told him softly, letting go of his hands and hugging him tightly. "You're alright." She stroked his cheek and smoothed his hair. "It was all a dream. You're safe now."

Duncan untangled the sheets so Richie's feet were free before sitting on Richie's other side and holding one of his hands. "Do you want to try and go back to sleep?" he asked.

Richie shook his head. "No."

"But you're tired," Tessa told him.

"You've barely been asleep for five minutes."

"Five minutes well spent," he told them.

* * *

Duncan took the afghan off the back of the couch and laid it over Richie, who was fast asleep on the couch.

"Thought you said you weren't tired," he smiled down at the unconscious teen.

"I think he's scared of his room," Tessa said, coming out of the kitchen. "He was sleeping fine at the hospital. He hasn't had a nightmare in weeks."

"Of course he's scared of his room!" Duncan realized. Richie moaned on the couch and repositioned himself. "Of course he's scared," he repeated, softer. "Why would he want to sleep in there?"

"What are we going to do? Do we have to move?"

"We'll have to figure that out."

That night when it was time for bed they were still at a loss for what to do about getting Richie to sleep.

"I'll be fine," Richie mumbled trying to push Duncan and Tessa out of his room.

"Okay, look, here's the deal," Duncan said, turning around. "If you decide you don't want to sleep in here, you come in our room or go out on the couch, anywhere you're comfortable, okay?"

"Alright," Richie groaned. It had been obvious throughout the day that Richie was rather embarrassed about his earlier display. But at the same time, Duncan and Tessa could tell he wasn't ready to try it again.

"Anytime," Tessa told him. "Just come in."

"Okay."

He closed the door behind them. Duncan and Tessa went into their room and got ready for bed. They left the door open in case Richie had another bad dream.

"Do you think he's okay?" Tessa wondered.

"I think he wants to be."

"He's not going to sleep tonight."

"Well, hopefully he's smart enough to go somewhere where he will sleep."

"What if he doesn't?"

"Not as if he's going anywhere tomorrow. He can take over the couch."

"What are we going to do about the reporters? They wouldn't leave us alone, what are they going to do when they find out he's home?"

"Drive us all insane."

They got into bed and were drifting off to sleep when someone appeared in their doorway.

"Rich?" Duncan asked, pushing up on his elbows. "Everything okay?"

"Um..." he floundered. "I'm just going out to the couch."

"Alright, thanks for the heads up. Uh, do you need any extra blankets or anything?"

"No." He gave them an awkward wave. "Night."

"Night, Rich."

When Richie was gone, Tessa got up and collected her pillow and the spare blanket off the trunk.

"What are you doing here?" Richie asked from the floor in front of the TV.

"Thought you might want some company."

"I'm fine."

"Why don't you just come in our room?" she suggested.

"I'm 18. I outgrew the whole sleep with mommy and daddy to make the monsters go away thing years ago."

"Richie, these aren't monsters hiding under your bed. The last time you woke up in that room there was a gun in your face."

"Don't remind me."

"You keep reminding yourself."

"Tessa," Richie sighed and sat up. "How lame am I that I can't sleep in my own bed? I can't be in my room without someone there. I'm supposed to be okay now. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing. Richie," she sat next to him on the floor. "You've been through something very traumatic. No one expects you to go back to normal over night."

"It's been a month."

"You've only been home for a few hours."

"How long until I go back to normal?"

"I don't know. But you won't go back to normal hiding from your feelings. If you're scared you have to say something. If you're angry say it. If you're hurt tell us."

"Tess," Richie said after a long pause. "I think I'm scared."

"We can work on that."

It took some trial and error. But Richie's sleeping problem was solved by a new set of bedclothes and pillows and a rearranged room. In a matter of days, he was sleeping alone in his own room with minimal problems. He went back for a checkup and was pronounced healthy and fit. He worked hard and was building back up the strength in his legs and arms.

* * *

One morning, Duncan was surprised to find Richie up and waiting for him when he went to check in on him before going for a jog.

"Can I come?" Richie asked.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Rich."

"Why not? You're always saying I should get more exercise."

"I think PT is enough exercise for you right now."

"Mac, all those are, are testing my strength and making sure I'm doing it right. I can go with you."

"I don't think so, Rich."

"Then can you ask Tessa if I can use her treadmill?"

"I don't want you using that unless you know how."

"Can you show me how before you go?"

"Not today. Maybe later."

* * *

"Can I help?" Richie asked coming down the stairs to the store.

"We got it covered, Rich," Duncan told him.

"Why don't you go upstairs and..." Tessa searched for what to say.

"Fine," Richie sighed and went back upstairs.

* * *

"Can we go to Chili's for dinner?" Richie asked one night.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Tessa said. "But I can make you whatever you want."

"I don't want anything here; I want to go out."

"We're not going out."

"Why not?"

"Because there are too many reporters out there. Now, tell me what you want and I'll go make it."

"I don't want you to make it. I want to go out."

"Well, we're not. We're eating at home."

"I don't want to!"

"I can go get carry out," she offered.

"Can I go with you?"

"No."

* * *

"Richie, get away from there," Duncan said, finding Richie staring out a window.

"Why?"

"Because."

"You always tell me that's not a reason."

"Just move."

* * *

"Don't!" Duncan warned. Richie's hand flinched away from the ringing phone. Duncan picked it up. "Hello...no, Richie's not doing any interviews... I don't have a comment...Don't call us again." He hung the phone up. "Richie, I've told you a thousand times, don't answer the phone."

"I know!" Richie snapped. "Don't answer the phone, don't answer the door, don't talk to the reporters, don't go outside without you or Tessa, don't go into the store during open hours, don't stand next to the windows, don't do anything!" he ranted, from his seat on the couch.

"Rich..."

"Everyone keeps telling me that I'm the victim. That there's nothing to be ashamed of. Then why do I have to hide? Why can't I just be normal?" he demanded, tears in his eyes. "If I'm the victim, why am I the one being punished? What the hell did I do wrong?"

"Nothing, Richie."

"Then why am I under house arrest? I don't understand why I have to be treated like a prisoner when I didn't do anything." His voice shook and the tears fell slowly.

"Richie..." Duncan sat next to him and pulled him close, letting the teen cry into his chest. "I'm sorry you feel like that. We don't want you to be a prisoner. We're just trying to protect you." He felt his own eyes begin to water. "What happened to you is completely unfair. And what's happening now isn't fair either, but we don't know how else to keep you safe. Those people out there just want a story out of you. The only way to keep them away from you is to keep you away from them." He kissed the top of Richie's head. "We don't know what else to do."

"Why won't they just go away?" Richie asked Duncan's shoulder.

"I don't know, Rich."

"I just wanna be normal again."

"I know you do." Duncan heard the back door open, then close. "I smell egg drop soup," he told Richie, changing the subject. "I can hear your stomach from here."

Richie pulled away, sniffing and wiped at his cheeks. "You're gonna tell Tess, aren't you?"

"I tell you what, I'll tell her after you go to bed, okay?"

"Dinner!" Tessa called from the kitchen. "Duncan, can you set the table? Richie, you can help me."

Richie went over and helped her dish out the various meals from the Chinese take-out containers.

"Is this what I think it is?" he asked opening a container.

"I got you General Tso shrimp," she told him. "But if it upsets your stomach, stop eating it."

"Tessa, I've been home for a week and a half. I'm fine now."

"I know," she told him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "I just worry about you. I don't know how you eat half the things you do. I should know by now you have a strong constitution."

Richie looked at her for a minute, nodded once, then took the platters to the table. He sat down, then Tessa brought the soup to the table and sat as well. Duncan was the last to join, bringing everyone a glass of water.

"Well, let's eat before it gets cold." Duncan said, serving himself picking up his spoon and starting on his soup.

Richie stared at his food for a moment, eyes unfocused, his attention elsewhere. Once he was done praying, as Tessa and Duncan assumed he was, he picked up his fork and speared a large piece ofshrimp that was dripping with the spicy plum sauce. He at a few pieces of his favorite food then seemed to concentrated on his rice, sans his usual chili sauce, and soup.

"Are you alright?" Tessa asked him.

Richie looked down and mumbled. "Spicer than usual."

"Do you want to trade?" Duncan offered his flavorful, yet light, and most importantly non-spicy broccoli chicken.

"No, thanks. I'm gonna eat this."

"You just said it was too spicy," Tessa pointed out. "You have to be hungry you didn't eat much for lunch."

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I'm gonna eat this."

"You're going to make yourself sick."

"No, I won't," he snapped. "I wanted this and I'm gonna eat it!"

"Richie, calm down," Duncan said. "She's just trying to help."

"I don't need her help!" Richie insisted. "I don't need your help! I'm just fine! I don't need you two second guessing everything I do! In case you haven't noticed, I have yet to make a wrong decision! I know what I can and can't eat! I can eat this and I'm gonna!"

"Then shut up and eat," he snapped back.

Richie jumped in his seat and quickly turned his attention to his food.

"Duncan..." Tessa was shocked. "How could you? He's just a little tired."

"No," Duncan said. "No more excuses." He turned to Richie. "You want things to go back to normal?" Richie looked at him and nodded slightly. "Then you know better than to take that tone with us. I wouldn't have let you get away with it before and I won't let you get away with it now."

"Can I go eat in my room?" Richie asked even as he picked up his plate and drink.

"Yes," Tessa said just as Duncan scowled at him, "No, you may not."

Richie cast a glance at Duncan,the oldermanobviously meant what he said, he put his things back down and went back to eating.

"Duncan..."

"We wouldn't have let him do it before," he reasoned, getting up as the phone rang. "Hello?...No." He hung up.

"More reporters?" Richie asked.

"I don't know what we're going to do about them," Duncan admitted. "We've already changed the number and kept it unlisted."

"They're never gonna leave us alone," Richie mumbled. "Not 'til they get what they want."

"Richie, you're just a story to them."

"They'll loose interest," Tessa added.

"When? When some other kid gets kidnapped? Did you know that some chick is dead?"

"What?" Duncan asked, confused.

"Yeah, they found this chick's body, shot in the head and left behind a dumpster and no one knows about it cause I'm the only thing the news will cover!"

"Then how did you find out about it?"

"It's in the paper. Way back in the back," Richie shrugged. "Think they said her name was Mary something...It's just stupid. I mean, isn't a murderer worse than a kidnapper? I'm okay, that woman is dead."

"Rich... it's all a matter of politics," Duncan told him. "People are going to beat this horse to death. Everyone's interested because nobody knows what happened."

"Then maybe I should just tell them."

"Richie, nobody expects you to do that," Tessa said.

"They're not gonna leave us alone 'til they get to interview me."

"Richie, what are you going to tell them?"

"Depends on what they ask."


	13. The End

AN: Thanks must go out to all who helped me with this fic. First and foremost my beloved Professor Lori Belle for her wonderful and faithful job betaing for me. I love my Lori Belle!!!

Also special thanks, gratitude, and cyber cookies to Amy and Lorilei for all their help with the medical info. I'm sure I drove y'all nuts with my random questions, but I've gotten more than one comment about how real the scenes seemed. I owe it all to you two!

Thanks also to all who read and reviewed. I appreciate all your comments and would love if you could leave constructive criticism at the end of the fic. Tell me what you liked, tell me what you hated, and pass on any suggestions you may have!

* * *

Richie stood in front of the mirror in their fancy hotel suite staring at himself.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Duncan asked him, straightening the shoulders of his shirt.

"I know what I'm doing," he assured him. Despite his obvious nerves, there was a smug undertone in the statement.

"Just keep in mind you're going to be on national television," Tessa told him.

"I know."

The phone rang: it was the front desk telling them the limo was there.

* * *

"For two months, the entire nation has been following the nightmare that the MacLeod family endured. On October eleventh, eighteen-year-old Richard was kidnapped and held for ransom. Ultimately, half a million dollars was demanded in exchange for his life."

A mummer rippled through the audience of the Oprah Winfrey show.

"On November fifteenth, Richard was found, abandoned on the side of a rural highway, hidden from view, left for dead."

And shocked whisper.

"But unlike so many of these stories, this one has a happy ending. Richard was found, alive, and now he is home back with his parents where he belongs. He has a clean bill of health and no permanent injuries to show for his ordeal."

A few people clapped, others cheered, some just breathed a sigh of relief.

"Richard is here today to share his story. But before we bring him out, I'd like to introduce the people many have been including in their prayers for so long, Richard's parents, Duncan and Tessa MacLeod."

The cameras turned to Duncan and Tessa seated in the front row of the audience.

"How horrible this must have been for you," Oprah said. "What was it like, coming home and finding your son gone?"

"It was terrifying," Tessa said. "We didn't know anything about what had happened to him, who had him, or why they had taken him."

"Mr. MacLeod, I understand you didn't want to leave him at home that night?"

"I'm very protective of my family, and I was a little uneasy of leaving him home when we weren't going to be back until early morning," Duncan admitted. "But he's eighteen and I wasn't going to make him go with us if he didn't want to."

"What about the reward money? What made you decide to pay the man who found Richie half a million dollars?"

"That money was raised to get Richie home safe and sound. We were willing to give that money to whomever brought him home to us. We had no problem giving the money to the kidnappers, or to the man who found him."

"Does it bother you that the kidnappers are still out there?"

"Yes," Tessa admitted. "But hopefully they'll realize that they're lucky they got away with this and not try it again."

"What was it like when you got the phone call saying that Richard had been found?"

"It's impossible to explain," Duncan said. "It was just such a feeling of relief. Indescribable."

"Is everything back to normal now?"

"Pretty much. Richie's still going to physical therapy and his appetite isn't quite back to normal, but we're on our way."

"Well, why don't we bring Richard out here? Come on out, Richard." Oprah stood up to wait for her guest to arrive on stage.

From their seats on the front row, Duncan and Tessa watched Richie confidently walk out onto stage to loud applause. He shook Oprah's hand and sat next to her, angled slightly on the couch.

"So, Richard," she said after the applause dimmed down. "What an ordeal. Are you alright?"

"I'm good… and call me Richie." He flashed her a charming, crooked grin. "I hate being called Richard."

"Richie, then," she repeated with a smile. "There are no lasting effects from all this?"

"Nope."

"So, you were kidnapped and were missing for a month. Now, I'm sure everyone's as curious as I am to know exactly what happened? How did all this happen? What did they do to you while you were missing?"

Richie smiled and shook his head. "That's a lot of questions."

"There are a lot of things we don't know. There is a very large mystery surrounding those two months."

Richie smirked and shook his head again. "I know."

Oprah turned to the camera. "When we get back, perhaps the most shocking secret of this case, revealed."

During the commercial break, hands stormed the set checking makeup, hair, microphones, lighting…

"A little overwhelming isn't it?" Oprah asked Richie.

"A bit."

"Only four more breaks," she told him.

"Promise?"

She smiled. "Promise."

As suddenly as they had rushed on set, the hands rushed off.

"With us today," Oprah said to the camera, "we have Richard…I'm sorry, he wants to be called Richie, who was kidnapped and found abandoned by a highway." She turned to Richie. "Now there is a very big secret that quite a few people have been keeping for you."

"Yup."

"And what is it?"

"My name is not MacLeod, it's Ryan. I'm not their son."

The audience gasped in shock.

"You are not their son?"

"No."

"Then how did the abductors come to that conclusion?"

"I work for them and part of my pay is room and board," he explained.

"Who all knew that?"

"Anybody who knows us knows I'm not their son and I work for them."

"So whoever these people are, are not friends of the family?"

"We assume."

"Now, I want to switch topics slightly," she said. "Can you tell us what happened on October eleventh?"

"I was kidnapped," Richie shrugged.

Suddenly, Duncan and Tessa were aware of what Richie's smug tone was about. He was going to give Oprah Winfrey the run around on national television. He was the interview of the year and he had no intention of cooperating.

Oprah smiled patiently at him. "How did it happen?"

"I was taken somewhere against my will."

"What about the ransom note, you wrote it, correct?"

"Yes, I did."

"Why did you address it to Mom and Dad?"

Richie leaned back in his chair. "If someone held a gun to your head and told you to call me 'Dad' would you?" Richie asked her.

* * *

Collin sat back in his first class seat and unfolded the newspaper.

"Kidnapped Apprentice Frustrates Daytime Diva" the head line read.

"Richard Ryan, formerly known to the public as Richard MacLeod, admitted yesterday afternoon that he is not the son of local antique dealer and artist, Duncan MacLeod and Tessa Noel. Ryan avoided answering any personal questions during his exclusive interview on the nationally syndicated Oprah Winfrey show. He offered up only the most basic of information to her questions using tactics that would make any politician proud. When asked about the details of his ordeal, Ryan's favorite answer was "I'd rather not talk about it."

Ryan offered up little information that had not already been released to the public. Ryan appeared non-emotional throughout the interview, even unfazed by Oprah's obvious frustration toward the end of the show. Perhaps the only time Ryan showed any emotion other than calm, confident, and almost cocky was when asked if he had anything to say to his captures, which are still at large. There was a slight tremor in the teen's voice when he looked directly into the camera and said: "Thank you for not killing me."

When the people who posed as his parents were asked why they had claimed him as their son and took responsibility for paying the ransom, Mr. MacLeod answered: "Who would dust the store and clean the bathrooms?" To which Ryan and Ms. Noel laughed. Perhaps a sense of humor runs in their 'family'?"

A few pages back there was a smaller, but related article.

"Hero Receives Reward Without Meeting Victim"

"The local man who gets the credit for finding Richard Ryan where he was abandoned by Highway 87 was given a reward of $500,000- - money that had been raised to pay the teen's ransom. Ryan and the local, anonymous hero have not met since the night on the highway and there are no plans for them to meet. "I understand his reluctance," the hero told reporters "if I were him, I wouldn't want to associate with anything connected to the ordeal either. He thanked me in writing and the fact that he is alive to write the letter is more than enough reward for me."

Collin searched the paper page by page for any information about Mary. There had only been one article, not even an obituary. It seemed the police and FBI had so much pressure on them to catch the people who had kidnapped the wealthy teenager, they were hiding the murder of the poor prostitute.

Little did they know, they had given the kidnapper a check for the ransom money and billed him as a hero for finding the boy exactly where he had left him. And now Collin was flying to Australia to start over. A hero above suspicion, a bachelor without baggage, a man with nearly half a million dollars. He eared every penny of it.

* * *

With smug satisfaction, Richie ripped out the article about his interview and tossed it into the fire and watched it burn along with anything he could find that could that was about the kidnapping or could represent something for him. He burned articles and video tape for all the news coverage. He wanted to toss in a roll of duct tape, but Duncan was worried that it might release a harmful chemical, so he settled for a dish towel like the one they had used for a blindfold and a length of rope. Tessa added his hospital ID bracelet, Duncan the pillow case from his old sheet set. Richie sat back and watched everything burn. He got up, ran into the kitchen and came back with a piece of paper and pencil. He went back to his spot in front of the fire and tossed them in.

He watched the past two months burn in front of him, willing his memories to burn as well. He sat, silent, unmoving, until the fire burned itself out. At some point, Duncan and Tessa excused themselves to bed, sensing Richie's need to see this through alone. Once the fire was nothing but embers, he reached his foot in and stamped them out. He looked at the clock, nearly six thirty in the morning.

He put on his coat and took the stairs to the roof. He sat on the lip, letting his legs dangle over the side and watched the sun rise. His ordeal was behind him, his memories burned and put in their place, the sun rising to give everyone a fresh start.

And from his seat, Collin closed the window shade to block out the rising sun.


End file.
